


When Shadows Speak

by Anonymous_Introvert78, MinYun



Series: Requests [8]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Boys Kissing, Chronic Illness, Depression, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Jung Yunho is a good friend, LET'S GET IT, Love Confessions, M/M, Panic Attacks, Park Seonghwa-centric, Slow Burn, Song Mingi is a Good Friend, Suicide Attempt, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Woosan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 99,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinYun/pseuds/MinYun
Summary: "Right now, I need someone who's not going to walk away from me."OrSeonghwa is famous on campus. He's the kid who got locked up in the psych ward over summer because his head was too messed up for him to handle. Hongjoong is famous, too. He's the rich boy that everybody wants to hang out with even when he's smoking weed with his father's money. They aren't good for each other. They shouldn't go together. They almost kill each other.Chapters are tagged for t/w
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Requests [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010541
Comments: 385
Kudos: 331
Collections: Fav





	1. The Wrath Of The Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by goodboy back in May so sorry it took so long!
> 
> Okay, if you know us, you know we don't mess around. We go sad, we go dark and neither of us has a conscience. If you've read our previous works, you will know that. However, I think it's fair to say that this fic has reduced both MinYun and I to jelly. We're exhausted. We broke ourselves with our own story. 
> 
> So if you are easily triggered by anything remotely to do with suicide, mental health issues or unhealthy relationships then just don't read this. Please don't. It won't end well for you.
> 
> But if you think you're brave enough, go right ahead. And we apologise in advance.

The sun was rising.

At the moment, it was just a sliver of light on the horizon, tinting the inky blue with smudges of orange, pinks and purples.

Seonghwa tilted his head back against the tree he was lounging beneath, jeans damp from the dew on the grass, beer bottle dangling between his fingers and one leg stretched out awkwardly in order to pillow Mingi’s mop of red, tousled hair. He had no idea where Yunho had run off to but there was no way he was going back inside that house to look for him. 

He had not had a good time in there.

The party was loud, the rooms overstuffed with so many sweat-slicked bodies that they must have been violating at least ten fire safety codes. The beer was awful and bitter, the bass of the music was obnoxious and obtrusive and the stares and whispers were more than Seonghwa had signed up for.

He had been hoping – uselessly, it seemed – that he would be able to fly under the radar now that he was back but it’d only been one night and he was already the talk of the town. Again. He’d only caught the tail end of the gossip before he left but, now that he’d returned, he understood the full extent of it.

He was doing what he could to ignore the murmurings behind his back but if there was one thing he’d learned from Yunho’s mindless poetic rambling, it was the tragedy that was beauty.

People paid attention to him, Seonghwa, because he was beautiful. He’d accomplished a lot when he started his major. He wrote an article for the community paper, spoke at seminars, he had good friends, kind parents and outstanding grades, but none of that seemed to matter.

He would only ever be remembered as that kid who tried to commit suicide in the campus bathroom and no one would ever understand why because, to them, he lived the perfect life.

Seonghwa glanced up at the sound of the front door opening to make way for the gaggle of drunken partygoers to stumble out onto the lawn, tripping over each other and laughing hysterically at their own clumsiness. They picked themselves up and stumbled in the vague direction of campus, probably to finish unpacking or to sleep off the hangovers they were all bound to have.

It was Saturday morning, thank the gods. That gave them two full days of rolling about in bed and resolutely avoiding any and all loud noises or bright lights before the next semester began.

Seonghwa had found himself with three flatmates this year, two of which had not so coincidentally turned out to be Yunho and Mingi. He was fairly certain the campus staff had tried to go the extra mile to make sure their most damaged student was happy and content now that he was finally permitted to return to fulltime education.

The third resident was a freshman he was yet to meet so he was still hopeful that they hadn’t fallen prey to the school gossip train.

“Hey!”

Yunho bounded down the porch steps, scuffed his foot on the curb and pitched forwards, rolling over the grass a couple of times before coming to a clumsy stop beside Mingi’s leg.

“Whoa …” he gaped, sitting up and shaking his head in stunned disbelief. “That was wild.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and took another swig from his bottle. His friends were idiots. At least, they were idiots when they were with him. Mingi was pre-med and Yunho studied computer sciences and yet somehow they were some of the most block-headed people he’d ever met.

“I couldn’t find you guys,” Seonghwa’s bumbling idiot confessed, swiping at the excess grass that was clinging to his hoodie.

“You left us out here,” Seonghwa reminded him without looking up.

“Oh, right.” Yunho gave his head another violent shake, as if that would fix his dilated pupils and slurring words.

“Come on,” Seonghwa grunted with a sigh, trying to wiggle his leg from beneath his unconscious friend’s head. “Help me get Mingi up.”

The boy didn’t even budge, too deep within the folds of sleep to hear or feel a thing. Yunho leaned over to assist and promptly toppled over again, groaning in pain when his head made a painful collision with Mingi’s knee.

“Gimme a sec,” he mumbled as his eyes fluttered closed.

At this point, Seonghwa really couldn’t tell if he’d fallen asleep or actually just needed a moment but he let out an exasperated hiss all the same, “Fuck …”

“You look like you could use a hand.”

Seonghwa’s head shot up and he scowled at the large round eyes and dimpled cheeks of his arch nemesis standing over him with his arms folded smugly over his chest and his lips quirked in a smirk.

“Not from you,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath as he turfed Mingi off his lap.

Soobin was another problem he had definitely not been anticipating upon his return to school. That boy had kept him awake on countless nights with his insistent chattering and then it turned out they were enrolled in some of the same business courses together. 

Seonghwa’s residential stay at Jeju Psychiatric Treatment Facility had come with many hardships but the hardest of all had been having Soobin as a roommate.

He hated the kid. He’d hoped to never see him again but then there he’d been, smirking at him through the window of the admissions office. The very same smirk that dirtied his face now as he watched Seonghwa struggling to keep both Mingi and Yunho’s faces out of the grass.

“Are you sure?” the boy chuckled.

“Positive,” Seonghwa snapped back.

Soobin’s dimples merely deepened with his amusement. God, Seonghwa loathed him.

“If you say so,” he grinned, spinning gracefully on his heel and leaving his old roommate to his own devices.

Seonghwa glared at his retreating back and sent a silent prayer to Apollo that he would just strike down each of his enemies in turn, before he turned back to the task at hand: getting two very large and very unconscious people back to their dorm.

“Need help?”

He whirled around, fully prepared to snap at Soobin once more, but shut his mouth as soon as he identified the people who had actually congregated behind him. The one who must have spoken was stood with one hip cocked and one hand casually resting in his pocket while the other guided a lit cigarette to his lips.

What exactly had Seonghwa done to gain the wrath of the gods? 

First Soobin and now this asshole. Seonghwa didn’t know his name. He only knew that he was far too famous for anyone to not know his name.

His popularity probably had something to do with the rumour that his parents were practically bathing in money or the fact that he had the reputation of being the most talented artist their college had ever produced.

Seonghwa had never seen any of his work or attended a single one of the art shows but the guy’s clothes were always artfully splattered with paint in some unique abstract sort of design. He changed his hair like the weather – right now, it was white blonde. Even paler than Seonghwa’s platinum dye – and he was almost always surrounded by at least ten people. 

Those said people were now standing a little way behind him, the closest of whom was a boy with longish blonde hair, a soft-looking white sweater and a black hairless cat of all things struggling against his grasp.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Seonghwa dismissed, propping a slowly-waking Yunho against the tree trunk and preparing himself to pull Mingi onto his back. 

“Hey!” one of the girls at the back of the group called out, and Seonghwa already knew what was coming.

That particular ‘hey’ was reserved only for him and the situations surrounding him. The girl confirmed his suspicions as soon as she started jumping up and down, clicking her fingers as if that would help her jog her memory.

“Oh … Oh, God, I know this kid,” she blurted excitedly.

“Me, too. It’s Mars, right?” somebody else provided. “The kid with the death wish.”

Seonghwa saw the exact moment they cringed away from him, faces morphing into a sea of conflicting expressions that ranged from disgust to pity. He couldn’t figure out which he hated more.

“I can’t believe Mingi would slum it with someone like him.”

It may have been the same girl who said it but Seonghwa didn’t bother looking up to confirm. He ignored the crowd of hushed whispers and once again tried to manhandle Mingi – who was practically drooling, slack-jawed, against his back – into a position that would make him easier to pick up.

Yeah, Mingi was definitely the one slumming it.

“Come on,” the blonde boy with the cat said, nudging the popular guy and jerking his head back the way they’d come. “Lord Boop is getting restless so if you aren’t helping, Joong …”

‘Joong’ drew his cigarette from between his pinkish lips and expelled a puff of grey smoke, shooting Seonghwa one last unfathomable look before stalking off with his airheaded friends in tow.

Soobin was leaning against a streetlamp across the road, still seemingly relishing in watching Seonghwa’s struggle even as he finally managed to get Mingi propped onto his back. 

“Hey!” he grunted, shuffling beneath the weight so he could free one foot and use it to kick the lump on the ground. “Jung Yunho! Get up, you overgrown slug!”

It was not an easy task, getting his friends back to campus. Mingi was still out like a light, occasionally nuzzling his nose against Seonghwa’s neck and mumbling something about the skin there being ‘so soft’ and, if he weren’t such a baby, Seonghwa would wither in disgust.

But Mingi was just that: a baby. No matter how many stupid things he did, no matter how many bad decisions he made, no matter how many times he screwed up simple errands, it just wasn’t possible not to love him.

Yunho, on the other hand … At this moment, Seonghwa did not love Yunho. Not one bit.

“Is this our dorm? Thank God … I’m so tired …”

“No, Yunho. That’s not our dorm. Come on, stay with me. We’re almost there and then you can lie down.”

Yunho grumbled something under his breath but compliantly heaved himself up from the bench he’d flopped down on and tottered behind Seonghwa like an exhausted puppy trailing its owner in the hope that it would get a belly scratch once it got home.

Seonghwa never should have let either of them drink that much but he wasn’t their mother and they’d needed a chance to blow off steam before the semester started and they were forced to bury their noses in books until they dropped dead from overworking themselves.

The only reason he’d been there himself was to make sure they didn’t end up passed out in their own vomit or trying to sleep with total strangers. He hadn’t wanted to go. He’d wanted to hole up his dorm and shut himself off from the world and its cruel judgement but Mingi had insisted.

“You can’t hide forever, Hwa,” he’d said in that cute little whine, tugging on Seonghwa’s arm in the way he knew his friend couldn’t resist. “If you don’t go out there and show everybody that you’re better than what they’re saying about you then you’ll just be condemning yourself for the entire year.”

Seonghwa let out a puff of exasperation and shifted Mingi slightly higher on his back.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbled under his breath. “Everybody’s laughing at me. To my face. Your plan failed so now I – Yunho, get back here! Yunho, I swear to Hermes I will leave you out here and let you find your own way back if you don’t get back over here!”

He hated them. Both of them. But he loved them, too. Both of them. Despite their … quirks.

He could only thank the heavens that their room was on the ground floor. He wasn’t sure he would be able to carry Mingi up a flight of stairs as well as convince Yunho to keep following him when he already looked like he was about to keel over and just fall asleep on the pavement.

Mingi was getting increasingly heavier as the seconds ticked by and Seonghwa couldn’t have been more relieved when he finally caught sight of their numbered door at the end of the hallway.

“Yunho,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Can you grab your keys?”

An incoherent mumble had him turning around to see Yunho leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open, just a few moments away from passing out on his feet.

“Yunho! Can you open the fucking door for me?”

“Five more minutes …”

“Oh, for the love of …”

He cut himself off mid-sentence when the door swung open, revealing a very bemused-looking boy staring back at him. He had dark brown hair that arched over his forehead and gave him the vague resemblance of a coconut, and his eyebrows were raised incredulously.

“You must be Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa blinked, “And I’m hoping that you’re Jongho, otherwise, why are you in my room?”

The boy let out a huff of amusement and stepped aside, holding the door as wide open as it would go to make space for Seonghwa and the oversized growth that seemed permanently attached to his back.

“Can you grab the other one?”

“Sure. Come on, Other One.”

Seonghwa didn’t have the energy to check that Yunho was listening to Jongho. Instead, he lugged Mingi into the nearest bedroom without bothering to check if it even belonged to him, and deposited his unfairly heavy body onto the mattress with a grunt of relief.

The boy let out a muffled moan and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and going straight back to sleep. Seonghwa simply tugged the blankets on top of him before taking Yunho under his arm and shoving him into the adjacent bed.

“I’m guessing you guys went to Jackson’s party last night?” Jongho prodded smugly as he watched Seonghwa flicking off the lights and leaving his friends to sleep it off. “What, was someone handing out weed?”

“They don’t do drugs,” Seonghwa snapped defensively. “They just had too much to drink.”

Jongho snorted sceptically. 

“You know, you’re surprisingly arrogant for a freshman.”

“And you’re surprisingly sober for a headcase.”

And there it was. This was his life now. Everybody thought they knew his story, thought they had the right to pass judgement on him before they even knew his name. It was one moment in his past that had somehow managed to rewrite his entire future and there was nothing he could do about it.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Jongho to suddenly drop his head between his shoulders and let out a sigh of resignation.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he glanced back up. “I tend to speak before I think. I know it’s a problem. I’m working on it.”

So, apparently, they had something in common.

“I won’t call you a headcase so long as you don’t call me arrogant.”

Seonghwa looked him up and down, assessing him and trying to get a read on whether or not this boy was worthy of a truce like that. But, then again, he himself wasn’t exactly the most popular kid on campus. If this kid knew who he was and was still willing to treat him as an equal then he really couldn’t afford to be nit-picking at his every act. 

“Deal,” he conceded, sticking out a hand for Jongho to shake.

Only then did he smell the sickly-sweet aroma of syrup drifting over from the stove, “You’re cooking?”

“Breakfast,” Jongho confirmed with a nod, moving back over to check on the condition of his sugary creations. “You want some before you pass out or after?”

“I’m not tired,” Seonghwa rebutted, and it was the truth.

His head was full, his nerves were buzzing, his fingertips were tingling and that was how he knew he wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon. 

His medication kept him docile and dumb most of the time but occasionally, the  _ crazy _ would seep through the cracks and take control without his permission.

He needed to move, not to lie down. He needed to  _ do  _ something or else he would get stuck inside his own head and the paranoia would get the best of him. If he tried to go to bed now, within an hour he would have convinced himself that the world hated him and his friends were only sticking around out of pity.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jongho threw over his shoulder, effectively snapping Seonghwa from his internal spiral. “You clearly want to ask me something so why don’t you just go ahead and ask?”

Had he wanted to ask something? Was this boy a mind-reader? Did he know what Seonghwa was thinking before even Seonghwa knew what Seonghwa was thinking?

Seonghwa swallowed, “What are people saying about me?”

It came out as a ghostly croak, far too weak to be proud of and far too pathetic to take seriously, but Jongho didn’t laugh like Seonghwa had expected he would. He didn’t even turn away from the stove. 

It helped. It meant Seonghwa didn’t have to see the pity on his face.

“I mean,” he continued hastily. “I know that rumours are bouncing around regarding what happened to me but … I was just wondering … what exactly they’re telling freshmen?”

Yunho had promised him it would all blow over by the end of summer. That people would find the next scandal to gawk at and his story would be long forgotten. Except, clearly, it hadn’t because people were still laughing at him, still calling him “the kid with the death wish”, still spreading the word to students who hadn’t even been enrolled when it all went down.

He wanted to know how much of what was circulating was actually the truth.

“I’m not bothered with gossip,” Jongho replied, still without turning around. “Some douchebag found out I was rooming with you and tried to ‘warn’ me or whatever. All I know is that you made a dumb decision and got locked up in a psych ward for it. It’s a tough break, man.”

Seonghwa bristled, “It wasn’t a dumb decision. I –”

And that was what finally had Jongho pivoting on his heel to gape at him, lips drawn thin in an expression of disapproval that shouldn’t have appeared on a face so young.

“Wasn’t it?” he countered coldly. 

Before Seonghwa could stop him, the freshman had lashed out and clamped down on his hand. 

He tried to pull free but the kid was surprisingly strong. He twisted Seonghwa’s arm until the inside of his wrist was facing the ceiling, betraying the thick pink scar that slashed across his arteries, framed by the white puffy flecks the stitches had left behind.

“You call that smart?” Jongho growled, any trace of amusement gone from his tone. “Because I don’t. I call that fucking selfish. You’re lucky to be alive. My brother said he thinks you’re brave as hell for coming back here after that so maybe you could – I don’t know – start showing people that he’s right and they’re wrong.”

Too stunned to speak, Seonghwa finally found the strength to wrench his arm back and immediately slid his sleeve down to conceal the hideous blemish on his skin. They would never understand. None of them would ever understand.

They weren’t there. They didn’t feel it. They didn’t know.

“Look,” Jongho puffed out, taking a step back so that he was no longer right up in Seonghwa’s face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how much pain somebody has to be in to do something like that so I’m not going to pretend to know what was going through your head, but let me give you a bit of advice: Move on. Get some help, go to therapy, bury yourself in school work, whatever you need to do, but show those morons who are pointing fingers at you behind your back that  _ this _ –” He gestured towards the older boy’s shielded wrist. “Does not dictate who you choose to become.”

And, just like that, as if he hadn’t spouted the weirdest and yet most inspirational shit Seonghwa had heard throughout his entire treatment cycle, he went back to the French Toast that was steadily simmering in its vat of sugary syrup.

For several very long moments, Seonghwa could do nothing more than stand there on the divider between the kitchen and the living room, staring at the boy’s back as he pottered around with plates and cutlery. 

“I’m gonna go grab some stuff,” he finally managed to grind out. “Can you check on the other two while I’m gone?”

Jongho emitted a hum of acknowledgement as Seonghwa’s feet numbly carried him towards the door and out into the hallway.

_ This does not dictate who you choose to become. _

Never before had he heard a freshman sound so smart. And never before had a freshman ever said something to him that he actually needed to hear. 

Jongho was absolutely right. He was lucky to be alive. He’d spent three days in the intensive care unit at the hospital, another four weeks on a ward and then two whole months in a psychiatric facility.

But he was back now. He was in control. He got to choose what his next move was because, for whatever messed up reason, the universe seemed to have decided that it didn’t want him to die just yet.

He had a choice. That’s what Soobin had kept saying, repeating those words on a loop every night until Seonghwa chucked a pillow at his head. 

_ You always have a choice, Hwa. You just need to learn how to make the right one. _

From here on out, Seonghwa would make the right one. 


	2. Socks On A Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned. This chapter does include detailed descriptions of a panic attack.

Seonghwa would never admit to his mother that she’d been right in suggesting he take a year off or just change universities altogether but now, as he strolled through the aisles on the campus convenience store, he realised that she may have had a valid point.

The store was situated about five minutes from the dorms and was open 24/7, run by students and stocked almost everything a person could need from instant rice to thumbtacks. It also had one of those ridiculously large security mirrors at the back and, through it, Seonghwa could see the two cashiers whispering as they glanced his way.

Even without the reflection, he could feel the weight of their stares. It was something he would probably have to get used to if he wanted to stay on campus. He couldn’t afford to give the dean any reason to call his mother.

He didn’t know a great deal about how dean/parent relationships went but he was pretty sure snapping at every student that looked at him funny would be cause to get his guardians involved.

Snagging a basket from the entrance, he gathered the sheets, a selection of notebooks and the box of instant noodles they were bound to need eventually, and brought them to the counter to cash out. Before he could even take out the first item, one of the girls reached out and touched his arm.

“I hope you’re doing better,” she said in a voice so infuriatingly simpering it physically hurt to listen to. 

Seonghwa racked his brain for a full minute before asking, “Do I know you?”

The girl glanced over at her co-worker, as if asking for encouragement, before turning back to him and smiling again as she stuttered, “Well … you don’t know me … but I think everyone knows you, Mars.”

Seonghwa bit down on his lip and released the breath he’d been holding through his nose. A mix of irritation and anxiety swirled around inside his chest but he held off on screaming in this girl’s face, which was honest to Lord Nemesis what he would have rather done.

“Great,” he sighed instead. “Can you check me out, please?”

She gave a nonchalant shrug and did as he asked, wishing him a good day as she handed over the bags.

The tightness in his chest didn’t let up even as he emerged back out into the cool September morning air. Nausea sat heavy in his stomach and his skin felt like it was tingling. He hated it. He hated his brain and his body and the way they seemed to constantly betray him. He wished he could be normal, feel normal, but normal wasn’t something he’d ever had in his grasp.

He was labelled with an anxiety disorder on the day before his middle school graduation and then, barely a year into high school, came his second diagnosis: Bipolar depression.

Seonghwa had never had a chance at normal and it had gotten worse with time. Drugs and therapy could only get a person so far. Mania and insomnia became common occurrences. Even now, he could feel his mind slipping as he meandered up to the gate at the foot of the dorm complex.

He wasn’t due to take his pills for another few hours but the alcohol last night must have messed up his body’s chemistry.

Kicking the gate closed behind him, he followed the stone path towards the glass doors of the reception area, counting his footsteps in an effort to clear his head. He reached step number ten just as a distressed mewling sound came from the hedges at the side of the building.

Almost immediately, one of the windows on the third floor flew open and somebody started to scream, “Lord Boop! If you don’t get your ass back here this instant, there will be hell to pay!”

The glass doors burst open and somebody tripped through, tightening their grip on the blanket they were bundled in as they stumbled towards the shrubbery, and Seonghwa rolled his eyes. This was the part of college that he certainly hadn’t missed while he’d been away: crazy students screaming at all hours, running around half-dressed and half-conscious.

The soft meows started up again and the bushes rustled just before a vaguely familiar hairless black cat emerged from the messy tangle of sticks and leaves and picked its way gingerly across the wet grass to rub its head against Seonghwa’s leg.

“Uh … hey.”

He crouched down to stroke the weirdly velvety skin, drawing a contented purr from the animal as it nuzzled into his hand. It had no collar but it was, for some unknown reason, wearing white socks, and Seonghwa couldn’t resist scooping it up into his arms.

He didn’t want the owner to get in trouble, a fate they were bound to suffer if admin ever found out that a student was housing a pet, but he had no idea how he was supposed to find the person who thought putting socks on a cat was a good idea.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The bundle of blankets was running towards him and it took a few moments for Seonghwa to register that it greatly resembled the boy from last night. Or this morning. 

The skin of his shoulder was visible where the material had slid down and his feet were haphazardly stuffed into a pair of vans. His white hair was a fluffy mess that tumbled into his sleep-swollen eyes. He must have only just woken up.

Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut and sent a quick prayer to Apollo, pleading that – at least just this once – he would hear his begging and strike down his enemies.

“Why are you holding Lord Boop?” the boy snapped, snatching the cat from Seonghwa’s arms and cradling it against his chest beneath the blanket.

Apollo was apparently too busy to tend to unfortunate college students today.

“Why do you have a cat?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“You aren’t supposed to have pets.”

“You gonna rat on me, Mars?”

Seonghwa flinched at the name that had affixed itself to him and would probably remain that way until he graduated this godforsaken school.

That awful swirling sensation in his chest began to rise once more and he felt his eyes burn with tears of frustration. The guy in front of him looked on as he tried and failed to get a handle on his emotions but then his face slowly morphed from a sneer to something similar to confusion and, a second later, realisation.

“Are you --?”

Seonghwa shouldered past him and stormed into the building without giving the idiot another opportunity to make fun of him. It felt like anything that life could possibly throw at him this semester would be and was being thrown, and he didn’t have a shield to carry. 

\---------------------------

Seonghwa refused to acknowledge Soobin’s existence.

For the past hour, he’d been tossing pieces of paper at the older boy’s desk, trying to get his attention, but the (at least trying to be) focused student refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

They all had assigned seats in this class since Ms Soh was too lazy to memorise their names when she marked the roll but, despite that, Soobin had managed to find himself a place directly across from Seonghwa even though their names weren’t even close to each other.

The gods hated him. This was his punishment. Like Tantalus and Prometheus, he was doomed to suffer like this for all eternity.

“Hey! Seonghwa!” Soobin whisper-shouted as soon as Ms Soh turned to her laptop to change the slides.

“Leave me alone,” Seonghwa hissed back but, despite his best attempts to stay discreet, two girls in the front row twisted around to stare at him.

“Hey, seriously … look at me,” Soobin demanded, and it really did sound like he had something important to say. 

Seonghwa hadn’t always hated him. In fact, when they’d first met, he’d been happy to finally have somebody to share his empty room with. Soobin was nice. Tall and cute, mischievous and blunt, and he always seemed to know when something was wrong. He could read Seonghwa like a book.

He’d been perfectly in tuned with his emotions from day one but, as his treatment went on and Seonghwa got better, Soobin seemed to get worse.

He was paranoid and delusional and his symptoms only deteriorated during their stay. He’d spend the entire night garbling about conspiracy theories and then he stopped taking his meds altogether after he’d managed to convince himself that the doctors were trying to kill him.

Seonghwa tried to notify one of the nurses but they’d always say the same thing: “Don’t worry about him, Seonghwa. Focus on getting better.” And that was that. 

Now, however, Soobin had a peculiar look of concern on his face, “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

“And I’ve been ignoring you.”

Soobin huffed indignantly, “I was just worried. Remember I went through the exact same thing that you did. I can see when you’re having a hard time.”

“I was just fine until you started annoying me.”

“Were you though?” Soobin whispered, tilting his chin in the direction of the two girls in front of him. “Can’t you hear them?”

Seonghwa could only just make out what they were saying but he heard the word ‘Mars’ as clear as day.

“—wouldn’t have come back if I were him. I’d be so embarrassed,” the first girl was murmuring.

“So would I. I feel so bad for him. He’s so pretty. What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. A friend of mine spoke to one of his buddies – you know Song Mingi, right? – and he kept saying it was an accident but, like … that’s some fucking accident.”

They both nodded solemnly and Seonghwa found himself unable to sit there and listen to them any longer. He didn’t bother asking to be excused. He simply grabbed his bag and sped out of the lecture hall as fast as his trembling legs would allow. 

He could feel the eyes on his back, hear the mutters rippling up and down the pews and it wasn’t until he got out into the corridor that he realised just how difficult he was finding it to breathe. It was the first day – _the_ _first fucking day –_ and he’d already humiliated himself in front of an entire class.

What was the point? Why was he doing this when his every waking moment was just going to be torture on top of torment on top of torture? They were never going to stop staring at him, they were never going to stop spreading those rumours, they were never going to forget that one moment.

Nobody wanted to be forgotten. Everybody hoped to be remembered. But not like this. Not as the perfect little pretty boy who’d had his whole life handed to him on a silver platter and had chosen to react by slitting his wrist.

It didn’t matter if he told the truth because no one would listen. No one would care. They fed off the drama, off his misery and his suffering. They enjoyed the scandal, enjoyed having something to whisper about and discuss in their dorm rooms so they could pretend they were in tune with the depravity of society.

In reality, they weren’t. None of them were. They didn’t care about him before and they didn’t care about him now. They only wanted to use him and his story to make themselves appear empathetic and knowledgeable.

He should have transferred colleges. He should have taken that year off.

He should have bled out on that bathroom floor.

Life wasn’t worth living if this was what it was going to be. It didn’t matter what choices he made if every single one of them led him back to the exact same place: a fucking anxiety attack in the middle of an empty hallway as the world continued to move around him.

He allowed his bag to slide off his shoulder and clunk to the floor as he braced his forearms against the wall and tucked his head between his hands, closing his eyes and trying to remind himself how to inhale and exhale in regular intervals.

His lungs felt like sandpaper. His chest felt like it was being crushed in an iron press. His head felt as if it was going to explode and, any minute now, he knew that his knees were going to give out and somebody was going to find him curled up in a ball of pathetic whimpers and snivels and then the rumours were only going to spread.

Everyone already believed he was unhinged. This would just confirm it.

He had to move. He had to get out of here, find somewhere safe and isolated so he could ride this out on his own, but when he looked up, the hallway seemed endlessly long. He could run for miles and still never reach the end. And still be trapped inside these walls.

The walls that were closing in.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking  _ breathe. _

Furiously blinking unwanted tears from his eyes and pressing a hand against his chest as though that would help soothe the agonising tightness there, he stooped to grab his bag from the floor and his vision whited out for a moment.

He barely caught himself against the wall and, by then, he knew he had only seconds.

Move. Move.  _ Move. _

He could no longer feel his fingers or his feet. Everything was fuzzy. His chest was going to burst. His heart was in his throat and his pulse was about to beat out of his wrist and he was so angry at himself for allowing it to get this far but now the ball was rolling and he had no way of stopping it.

How many steps had he taken? It felt like thousands and yet the door was still so far away. The air was crushing him, squeezing him, sucking the life from his bones. There was too much oxygen in his lungs. Any minute now, they were going to pop like a pair of balloons and he was going to die.

The floor rushed up to meet him, his hands and knees throbbing as he made contact with the scratchy texture of the hallway carpet. He couldn’t even find the strength to lift his head so it hung between his shoulders, hair falling in front of his face and breaths coming out in short sharp gasps.

“Hey.”

Oh, God, no. No one could find him like this. No one could see him in this state. He tried to claw his way to his feet using the wall for support but his legs were jelly and he whimpered – fucking  _ whimpered  _ – as his body crumpled back onto the ground.

“Mar … I mean, Seonghwa … Do you need me to get someone?”

A hand appeared on his shoulder but he threw it off instantly, too disgusted with his own flailing body to allow somebody to touch it. His eyes were closed and he was afraid to open them. He was afraid to see who was crouching in front of him, probably wondering if they should call the psych ward straight away.

“Okay … I won’t touch you but … can you … you know … take a breath? You’re gonna pass out and it’s kinda scaring me.”

Seonghwa choked out a laugh of spiteful incredulity that sounded more like a sob than anything else. He opened his eyes and the face he saw staring back at him pulled another strangled splutter from his throat.

Joong – or Hongjoong as Mingi had said his name was – was kneeling directly opposite him, hands raised in surrender and brow furrowed in concern. He looked like he believed Seonghwa was about to explode and, from the pressure that was building inside his skull, Seonghwa wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Leave me alone,” he gasped out, trying once again and failing once again to get his feet underneath him. “There aren’t any cats here. You don’t have a reason to … to talk to me.”

The humiliation was almost as crippling as the dizziness that threatened to drown him in its fuzzy folds. It seemed only fitting that the person to find him in his most vulnerable state was the person most likely to film him hyperventilating on his hands and knees and post it on social media.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, blurring his vision to the point where Hongjoong’s face was nothing more than a smudge. Desperate to remove himself from further ridicule, he forced his legs to take his weight but they could only hold out for a split second before crumpling beneath him.

Arms shot out and encircled his waist, catching him and guiding him gently back down to the floor. A chest was right in front of him, his face practically pressed into the fabric of its shirt, and his fingers curled into Hongjoong’s sleeve before he could stop himself.

He needed this contact. He needed it like he needed air to breathe. He needed to feel something solid and warm and secure wrapped around his body so he could convince himself – just for a moment – that he was safe. That somebody cared enough to hold him even if that somebody was Kim Hongjoong.

Kim Hongjoong.

What the fuck was he doing?

“Get off!” Seonghwa screamed through a sob. “Get off me! Get off! Get off me! Let go of me!”

His fists came up to beat against that chest and the arms retracted themselves in favour of coming up to shield their owner’s torso from further assault.

Seonghwa hated himself. He hated himself. Hated, hated, hated, hated. He stopped trying to punch Hongjoong and instead turned his wrath on himself, pounding his balled-up fists against his own skull in an attempt to kill the stupidity and the fragility and the sheer hatred he held for his own mind.

Broken. So fucking broken. Was there ever a time when he hadn’t been broken? Was there ever a time when he’d actually had a chance to be something other than a botched suicide attempt and a two-month-long sentence on a psych ward?

Why hadn’t he just died that day? Why had Yunho and Mingi come looking for him? Why had Mingi known exactly what to do to slow the bleeding as he cradled Seonghwa’s body in the backseat of the car? Why had Yunho managed to drive them to the hospital so fast?

Why did it hurt so much?

“Seonghwa! Seonghwa, stop! Stop it!”

Fingers were curling around his wrists, restraining him, ceasing his brutal self-battery. He wasn’t strong enough to fight. He wasn’t strong enough to stop crying or to even resist as he was reeled into Hongjoong’s chest.

“Breathe, Seonghwa …” came the murmur in his ear. “Please … Just breathe. You don’t need to hurt yourself. You just need to breathe. In and out. Come on. You can do it.”

Seonghwa was drenching his shirt in tears and spit but he didn’t even seem to care.

He just held on, tightening his grip even when Seonghwa’s hands came up to scrabble feebly at his shoulders. He held on even though he had no reason to. He held on despite how content he’d been to snap in Seonghwa’s face just a few days previously. 

There was no way of knowing how long the two of them huddled there against the wall, Seonghwa on his knees with his muscles reduced to melted cheese and Hongjoong crouching awkwardly beside him, refusing to let go and allow this total stranger another chance to cause himself further harm, but at some point the world had got a little quieter.

Seonghwa was the first to withdraw from the embrace, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and scrubbing at the excess fluid on his face. He could feel his cheeks burning but he kept his gaze on the ground as he gathered the broken pieces of himself strewn over the floor.

“Are … Are you okay now?” Hongjoong asked tentatively, still with his brows cocked with worry. “You don’t need a doctor or anything, right?”

“Why do you care?” Seonghwa snapped only to feel a spasm of guilt shoot through him at the look on Hongjoong’s face. “I mean … No, I’m fine. You should get back to your class.”

The boy smirked, “Nah. First day lessons are always overrated. They don’t bother to teach us anything new until at least a few weeks in.”

In spite of himself, Seonghwa let out a stifled chuckle that made his throat hurt. The expression on his face could maybe have even been considered as a smile until he remembered where he was, who he was with and what had just happened.

“Don’t tell anyone.” He tried to sound threatening but the words came out as more of a plea. “Please, Hongjoong. Can you hold off on exposing my emotional instability just for a few days?”

He didn’t have the energy to sound angry or sarcastic like he’d intended. He felt completely drained and he knew for a fact that if he had to face the judgement and the criticism and the toxic sympathy before he’d had a chance to catch his breath, he would just tumble right back down that rabbit hole.

He wasn’t expecting Hongjoong to blanch with confusion, “I’m not going to expose anything. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Seonghwa fired back, eyes narrowed with suspicion. He was half convinced that the entirety of Hongjoong’s posse was about to leap out of the storage cupboard with their cameras raised. “I know how much everybody loves to hate on Mars the freak.”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, closed and opened again only to close immediately afterwards. His shoulders sagged and he seemed to just deflate, reaching up to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For the other day. Look, Seonghwa, we may not be best buddies but I’m not an asshole. I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I swear.”

The realistic part of Seonghwa believed him but the irrational part still thought it was a trick. Another opportunity to make him a spectacle. Hongjoong must have thought that he’d never met somebody more pathetic in his life.

“You’re still shaking,” he said, reaching out tentatively for Seonghwa’s trembling fingers.

His hands were tiny, just like the rest of his body. Everything about him was just so petite but his strength was surprising as he took his fellow student by the elbows and pulled him to his feet. Seonghwa’s legs felt like they’d been replaced with overboiled noodles and he had to brace himself against the wall in order to remain upright. 

“Do you have any more classes today?”

“Y-yeah …” Seonghwa stuttered, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear the dancing spots in front of his vision. “But I don’t – I don’t think …”

He still felt so floaty and more than a little nauseous. There was no way he would be able to make it to let alone through another class.

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t,” Hongjoong agreed, scooping Seonghwa’s bag off the floor and swinging it over his shoulder. “Come on. I won’t leave you until you’ve calmed down but we can’t stay here.”

Before Seonghwa could answer or protest or tell this kid to leave him the fuck alone, he was being led down the hallway, footsteps still unsteady and disastrously coordinated. He tried to focus on Hongjoong’s white hair reflecting off the lights and the way his hoodie reached all the way down to his thighs and how he took at least three more steps than Seonghwa would to cover the same distance.

He was honestly one of the smallest guys Seonghwa had ever met.

The sole of his shoe caught beneath him and he tripped, only just managing to catch himself against a tree. He hadn’t even realised when they’d moved outside, his senses returning so slowly that it was still another few minutes before he registered where they were heading.

Students here called it ‘The Cove’.

On the far end of the campus, behind the building that used to be the science block but was now abandoned and dilapidated, was a small clearing in the centre of the trees and vines that had overrun the area. It housed what may have been a pond or a fountain at some point but was now nothing more than a vat of foul-smelling algae and slime-infested gloop. 

There were two people sitting on a makeshift bench near the wall of the building, laughing loudly right up until they noted Seonghwa’s presence.

“Hey, you came!” one of them cheered, clearly addressing Hongjoong.

He was short, too, with black hair that Seonghwa distantly remembered from a general ed class. Woohyun or Wooyoung or something similar. The kid who was lying on his lap also possessed a full head of jet-black tufts but with a shock of white right at the front of his fringe.

A joint was hanging lazily between his fingers and, as Seonghwa inhaled, he identified the source of the smell as none other than weed. 

“San,” Hongjoong sighed, dropping Seonghwa’s bag on the ground and glaring at the boy with the spliff. “Are you really doing that in front of Yeosang?”

San couldn’t have looked less bothered. He lowered the cigarette and expelled a thin column of smoke from between his lips before passing the joint to Wooyoung and watching fondly as the boy took his own lengthy draft.

“Sangie doesn’t know what he’s smelling.” 

Seonghwa glanced over at the blonde boy he hadn’t noticed was sitting closer to the edge of the water, a headset covering his ears and sourcing the tune that he was humming along to. He was clearly oblivious to the world around him, interested only in the stones he was tossing into the gunk.

Seonghwa wished he could be like that. At first glance, he could see the innocence practically rolling off the boy. He was smiling softly, staring off at the murky surface of the water, probably thinking about the cat he was illegally keeping in his dorm room.

“Oh, hey …” San sat up. “Aren’t you Mars?”

There truly wasn’t energy enough in Seonghwa’s body to voice the counterattack that slid into his head then immediately vacated. Someday, he would be able to make coldly witty comebacks again, but for now his brain was on a break and basic functions seemed to be the only thing he was capable of.

“It’s Seonghwa,” Hongjoong corrected as he took the joint from Wooyoung.

“Yeah, but Mars is English,” San countered. “It means the same thing.”

“Nah … Hwa is prettier,” Wooyoung interjected with a thoughtful hum. “Mars just sounds …”

He trailed off and Seonghwa looked on as the three of them held a conversation about him right in front of his face and yet, somehow, it didn’t feel like they were mocking him. As so many others had done before them.

“Come, sit,” Hongjoong called over, shoving San’s legs off the bench to make room.

Seonghwa didn’t possess the emotional capacity to refuse. The numbness in his hands and feet had only just started to dissipate but he could still feel the miniscule tremors wracking his body. Therefore, he was thankful for the opportunity to transfer his weight onto something a little more sturdy.

“Should I roll another one?” San asked lazily and Seonghwa fumbled with his words.

“I … I-uh … I don’t smoke.”

He waited for one of them to laugh, to say that he must have smoked something, to ask if he’d rather snort than smoke, to say that crazy people like him shot themselves up all the time and he must have been hooked on something to have made such a stupid decision.

He waited but San just shook his head and reached for his bag, digging around for a few minutes before procuring a small resealable bag of multi-coloured tablets.

“Here …” he said, tipping one of them into his palm and holding it out. “You’re shaking. This will help.”

“I don’t do drugs either,” Seonghwa rebutted. Technically, he did, but they didn’t need to know about the long,  _ long  _ list of prescribed medications he swallowed on a daily basis.

“It’s only Xanax,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You can just take half if you want. It will stop the shaking.”

He broke the little red pill into two pieces, popped one in his mouth and dropped the other into Seonghwa’s hand, giving him a gesture of encouragement when the boy continued to hesitate.

“I … Uh. Okay.” 

Within minutes, his chest loosened and the tremors in his muscles began to relax and he could finally draw a breath without his throat feeling as if it was trying to narrow itself to the diameter of a pencil tip. His head suddenly felt inordinately heavy, his eyes drooping against his will, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t slept for more than three hours in the last four days.

“Hey,” San murmured, nudging Hongjoong with his elbow and gesturing towards their dozing companion. “Maybe you should get him back to the dorm before that shit puts him to sleep.” 

“We should get back, too. I have to call my parents and if Lord Boop scratched the bedpost again, I’m going to go crazy.”

Wooyoung stood up and stretched his arms above his head, an action that seemed to alert Yeosang to the new development. He got to his feet, dusting the dirt off his pants, but stopped when he noticed Seonghwa.

They flashed one another a shy smile before gathering their belongings and setting off in the direction of the dorms.

Seonghwa observed silently as San and Wooyoung teased each other ahead of him. He felt Hongjoong and Yeosang’s presence beside him, sensed the hand that was hovering just a few inches from his elbow, as though waiting to catch him if he stumbled.

And Seonghwa realised that Apollo may have had a point in refusing to smite Hongjoong when he’d asked him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at us. We deserve it.


	3. Accidental Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **descriptions of panic/anxiety attack

Seonghwa didn’t remember the exact details of how he got back to the dorm room but when he awoke in his bed the next morning with Yunho curled around him from behind and Mingi having commandeered Jongho’s bed for the night, he recalled a couple of vague snippets.

Hongjoong had walked him all the way to his door, even after he’d tried to insist through slurring words and puffy eyes that he was perfectly fine on his own, and hadn’t left until he’d been certain that Mingi and Yunho were giving their beloved roommate enough attention.

Only now that he was sober did Seonghwa feel the first tendrils of embarrassment tangling themselves in his gut. He hated anyone who wasn’t his two closest friends seeing him in a state so vulnerable and no less than four people had done that yesterday.

They hadn’t judged him, though. They hadn’t exchanged hushed whispers or pointed at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Maybe it was thanks to the Xanax San had provided him with or the fact that three out of those four people had been high on marijuana but he’d felt comfortable with them. Maybe even safe.

Like they could be the kind of people he would want to go to whenever his panic dial hit 100.

The alarm began to wail piteously but Seonghwa allowed himself a few more moments to just lie there, warm with Yunho’s arms around him, before he reached for his phone and silenced the blaring siren. Across the room, Mingi gave a groggy groan as he rolled over the mattress and stretched his joints.

“Don’t wanna get up!” he whined. “Don’t wanna be a doctor! I quit!”

It was enough to have Seonghwa’s disused facial muscles straining into an unfamiliar smile. Mingi said exactly the same thing virtually every morning. All he would need was a swift kick up the rear and a heavy dose of caffeine to get him ready for the day.

“He’s got a point,” Yunho mumbled, words muffled from where his face was buried in the back of Seonghwa’s shirt. “It should be illegal to make us get out of bed when the only thing we’ve got to look forward to is crappy cafeteria food and a wrinkly old professor that sounds like a weasel.”

“Come on,” Seonghwa sighed, patting the boy on the hand before sliding out from between the blankets. “I’ll make the coffee.”

He didn’t wait for the reply he knew wouldn’t come. His head still felt a little foggy and he ached down to his bones but the blast of cold water that assaulted his bare body when he turned on the shower was more than enough to wake him up.

Today was another day. That was the sort of thing that Soobin would say. Today was another day and the misfortunes of the past were just that: the past. So long as he made it through his classes, he could pretend that yesterday had never happened.

Jongho was up and about by the time he emerged from the bathroom, still looking visibly disgruntled at having been kicked out of his own bed so that Mingi could keep an eye on Seonghwa for the night.

Mingi was the last son of a family with a long line of doctors. His parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and older sister were all doctors. Mingi therefore had a lot of money and a lot of connections all across Seoul. Thankfully, however, he - in his own words - used his powers for good. Although he had been known to ask for copies of Seonghwa’s files. 

Jongho gave a noncommittal grunt by way of greeting and returned to whatever he was making on the stove.

Seonghwa ducked back into his room to be sure that his friends hadn’t returned to the land of unconsciousness and also so he could take his pills in private. It was one thing to have to shovel drugs down his throat every morning but being watched while he did it … He’d had enough of that from his hospital stay.

“You gonna be okay today?” Yunho whispered as Seonghwa sat down at the table with his bowl of Cheerios. “You’ve still got my number on speed dial, right? You know that you can call me whenever you need.”

“I’ll be fine,” Seonghwa assured him.

He had no way of knowing if that was the truth. From what he’d learned, anxiety attacks could come from nowhere and reduce him to nothing in a matter of milliseconds. Telling himself that everything was all sunshine and buttercups was a sure-fire way of making it hurt ten times worse when he crumbled yet again.

A sharp wrap of knuckles against wood had them both glancing up in surprise. Jongho was the nearest to the door and almost as soon as he opened it, Yeosang slipped past him and forced it closed as though he was trying to escape whatever he’d left out in the corridor.

For a couple of seconds, he stood there, listening, while the occupants of the room he’d just invaded gaped at him in confused surprise. Seonghwa wasn’t sure if they were the ones Yeosang had been looking for or if he’d just dived through the first door he’d seen as he ran from whatever it was.

“Can we help you?” Jongho asked coldly, one eyebrow cocked in disapproval.

Yeosang seemed to have deemed himself temporarily safe because he let out the breath he’d probably been holding since his uninvited entrance, snatched the cup of coffee from Jongho’s hand and downed its contents in one gulp.

Yunho scoffed incredulously, widened eyes zipping between Seonghwa and Jongho as though he expected one of them to just get up and deck the guy.

“It’s the same goddamn girl,” Yeosang explained breathlessly. “Every year for as long as I’ve been here, she starts flirting with me and I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried to be discreet and polite and just subtly dissuade her but she won’t take a fucking hint so what am I supposed to do?”

He looked at each of them like he was awaiting a solution to be provided from thin air but the only response he got was stunned silence.

“Listen, pal, we don’t care if you’re getting hit on or shit on, you can’t just burst into our room whenever you feel like it. Now get out before I punch you in a place you really don’t want to be punched.”

And Jongho looked like he could punch. He looked like he could punch  _ hard,  _ but Yeosang didn’t even flinch. Instead, he levelled the kid with a withering glare and said in a voice that dripped with reluctance and irritation:

“Did Mum put my blue sweater in your suitcase again?”

Um … What?

“You can’t blame Mum every time you lose something,” Jongho countered, arms folded and shoulders squared even though the words that left his mouth sounded like they were coming from a child. “Seriously, take better care of your stuff, man. I don’t have your fucking sweater.”

“Geez … You kiss our mother with that mouth?”

“You just swore, like, thirty seconds ago.”

“I’m the eldest. I’m allowed to. I make the rules, remember?”

“And since when have the rules ever applied to me?”

“This is why I get the better Christmas presents.”

“Hold up!” Seonghwa interrupted, rising from his chair and holding his hands out to signal surrender as he looked at Jongho. “Yeosang is your brother?”

Jongho shrugged, “Brother … Pain in the ass … Mom and Dad’s unsuccessful experiment that was so disastrous they decided to have another kid just to make up for it. I guess you could say that.”

Seonghwa had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that but before he had the chance to try, the bathroom door opened and Mingi emerged. His hair was still wet from the shower, plastered to his scalp in sodden strands, and the sleeveless tank top he wore did a pretty good job of showing off the distinction in his biceps.

Yunho often joked that if Mingi put as much effort into studying as he put into working out, he would have graduated already.

“What’s going … Oh.”

Seonghwa had never seen Mingi dumbstruck before. He’d never seen that boy’s brain stop working in the middle of a sentence but there he was, frozen in the doorway with his fringe slowly dripping onto his bare shoulders, mouth hanging open like he was waiting for somebody to close it for him.

Seonghwa looked at him and then at what he was looking at and had to choke back a laugh as he realised the source of Mingi’s sudden brain death was none other than Yeosang himself.

“Hi …” he managed to get out at last, tripping forwards and extending his hand in greeting. “I’m … Mong Singi. I mean … Sing Mongi. Song Mingi. My name is Song Mingi.”

Yeosang’s lips curved upwards as he reached out to reciprocate the handshake but he wasn’t laughing at Mingi. Instead, he seemed to be pleasantly endeared by the big-boned puppy that was gawping down at him as if he were the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.

“Kang Yeosang. I’m the ideal model that was so perfect our parents tried to replicate it but just ended up producing … this.”

He gestured meagrely in Jongho’s direction, drawing a huff of indignance and a deafeningly loud eye roll from the boy in question. And Mingi giggled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Holy shit,” Yunho whispered in Seonghwa’s ear as they looked on, slowly chewing their Cheerios and watching the chaotic …  _ gayness  _ that was occurring right in front of them. “It finally happened. Mingi’s fucking lost it.”

“Au contraire,” Seonghwa whispered back. “I think he’s found it.” 

They saw the moment that Mingi’s smile grew as he stared at the pretty boy in front of him and Seonghwa didn’t mean to be bitter – especially not when his friend was so smitten – but here was Eros smiling down on Mingi when Apollo had neglected to carry out one simple murder. 

“Quit that,” Yunho hissed, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm.

It took a while for him to feel the sting of where his fingernails had dug into the puffy skin of his scar. It was a habit he’d picked up almost immediately after getting the stitches out and one that he practised regularly enough for Yunho and Mingi to always be on the watch for it.

“You sure you’re okay? We can skip classes today,” his friend suggested, his voice filled with such sincerity that Seonghwa almost picked him up on his offer.

The only reason he didn’t was that they all needed to start attending their lectures come hell or high water if they intended on passing their finals and getting out of this place. Seonghwa, probably more than anyone, just wanted to leave it all behind.

“I’m sure. It’s fine,” he replied, rising from his chair to clear the cereal bowls from the table.

“Mingi, please go get dressed and stop ogling my brother,” Jongho sighed with an air of someone who really couldn’t be bothered as he filled a thermos with coffee.

Seonghwa smirked at the sight of Mingi slowly detaching his hand from Yeosang’s and blinking in open wonder before tripping clumsily back into his room to find his clothes.

“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched,” Yunho quoted, clutching his chest dramatically.

Yeosang giggled and dropped himself into one of their chairs. Even his giggle sounded  _ pure,  _ if it was possible for giggles to sound as such. It was a little husky due to the depth of his voice but still so sweet. He was dressed in a pale grey sweater with his blonde hair crammed beneath a pink beanie.

Seonghwa wondered what he would look like if he dressed like that. Mingi always told him that he had the fashion style of somebody who’d just committed a murder. Black and white were his basic uniform. Other colours could get distracting when his senses were overloaded.

“Alright,” Yunho announced, grunting as he heaved himself out of his seat. “I gotta get to my nine o'clock.”

“Oh … If you see a redhead in the halls, try to get her to leave please,” Yeosang shot over his shoulder before pausing and eyeing the bedroom door through which Mingi had disappeared. “She doesn’t seem capable of picking up on the fact that I’m gay.”

Yunho collected his laptop bag and Jongho’s thermos with an affirmative grunt, ignored the youngest’s affronted protests and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

No sooner had he vanished from sight, Mingi stumbled back into the kitchen, dressed in a fitted cream Henley and dark jeans. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. Eros must have been working overtime if Mingi was dressing so well even at this hour of the morning.

“Uh … Yeosang?”

Yeosang glanced up and Seonghwa didn’t neglect to notice the way his eyes swept over Mingi’s admittedly very attractive body.

“Can I walk you to class?” the puppy dog asked with a nervous chuckle. 

Yeosang beamed at him and hopped down from his chair, “Sure.”

He ruffled Jongho’s hair as he passed, indifferent to the hiss of disgust his brother emitted, and linked his arm through Mingi’s. 

They’d barely been gone a minute, however, when the door opened yet again and, this time, it was San who let himself in.

Seonghwa had a sneaking suspicion that he would have to get used to multiple people traipsing through his dorm.

“Good morning,” the latest intruder greeted.

“Uh … hey.”

Seonghwa wracked his memory, repeating the events of the previous day and trying to pinpoint a moment where they would have accidentally become friends or when Seonghwa could have possibly expressed some sort of need for a morning visit.

He couldn’t think of any and yet here was San, shaking his fingers through his black and white fringe and looking as if he belonged in this room just as much as the others did.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked. “You still look kind of tired.”

“Are you Yeosang’s annoying roommate?” Jongho inquired before Seonghwa could respond, filling yet another thermos with coffee and clutching it as if he would willingly murder anyone who tried to take it from him.

“No,” San replied drearily. “That is definitely Wooyoung. And you must be the little brother he’s always talking about. You really do resemble a coconut.”

Jongho let out a squawk of frustration, threw his hands up in the air and stormed out of the room, mumbling various curses under his breath as he went. And then Seonghwa was left alone with San.

“Well, come on. We have classes to get to.”

“You do business?” Seonghwa questioned him, trying to remember a time when he’d seen San in any of his lectures.

“Nah. I do health and physical therapy. You room with Mingi, right? I have a few classes with him.” 

“That’s in the opposite direction. Why are you here?”

Seonghwa didn’t mean to sound like an ass but he couldn’t figure out why San would be in this room. They didn’t know each other and for all San knew, Seonghwa was Mars: the headcase that everybody at school was talking about.

“You should probably stop picking at that.”

He glanced down to see the skin around his scar had just begun to break. His mother had resorted to dressing him in mittens for a while, as if he were a two-year-old and couldn’t take them off by himself. Then Yunho had tried spraying his fingers with salt water so that it would sting if the skin snagged but Seonghwa didn’t even feel the pain.

Now Mingi simply made sure his nails were always kept blunt and it took a little longer but, somehow, Seonghwa still managed to do a little bit more damage every time before he realised what he was doing. 

“Right … thanks,” he mumbled self-consciously. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

He was barely gone for five minutes but when he returned, he was greeted by Wooyoung helping himself to the last of the coffee and San preparing a few cigarettes, probably readying them to be filled with weed later.

Seonghwa didn’t know much about drugs but, for the most part, he considered marijuana a little less harmful than the other stuff circulating around. Although, San did carry Xanax in his bag so Dionysus knew what else he had in there. 

Were they trying to be his friends because then they’d have easier access to drugs? Were they going to ask for his prescription medication so they could get high? His pills didn’t have a dose heavy enough to produce that kind of effect. They merely kept him grounded in reality, quite the opposite of what these guys were looking for.

“Hey.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and registered for the first time the presence of Hongjoong perched on the small couch they had in the corner of the room. His green acid-washed hoodie practically swallowed his entire frame and his hair looked fuzzy and fluffy.

“You ready?” he asked. “Let’s not be late.”

Seonghwa bit down on his lip, watching as the three of them chattered with each other, zipping up their hoodies, gathering their belongings and just acting as if this was their own room to filibuster about in.

As if they were all the best of friends or something. It was too easy. He’d only just met them. Hongjoong was an asshole-ish popular guy with too many admirers and rich-as-fuck parents. He had no business being here in Seonghwa’s face exchanging pleasantries.

They weren’t friends.

“Why are you all here?”

They froze, each of them stopping whatever they were doing in favour of turning to stare at him.

“To walk you to class,” Wooyoung answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why? We’re not even in the same building.”

“Yeah, but we can still walk you there.”

Wooyoung looked genuinely confused, as if he couldn’t understand why Seonghwa wouldn’t want them by his side. Maybe he’d been so high yesterday that he’d somehow convinced himself they’d all made a blood pact and promised to be inseparable for the rest of their lives.

“I don’t need you to walk me anywhere. I can get to class on my own so please leave.” 

But they just continued to look at him. They  _ stared _ . Like he was talking some sort of gibberish.

They were probably thinking how ungrateful he was being after they’d helped him out the previous day. They were probably going to tell the rest of the school that they did drugs with him. They were probably going to take advantage of this opportunity to ruin his chances of making it to the end of the year.

Seonghwa felt his breath hitch. It was far too early for this to be happening. He’d just taken his meds half an hour ago. This shouldn’t be happening. Not now. But it was. And Mingi and Yunho weren’t here to help him come down from it.

“Can you please go?” he begged, turning away from them so that they wouldn’t see the tears he was wiping from his eyes.

This couldn’t happen here. Not in front of them. Not again.

“Hwa, are you okay –?”

“Don’t call me that!” Seonghwa screamed, whipping back around and shoving Hongjoong away from him once he realised how close the boy had gotten. “You can’t give me nicknames! You can’t come into my room! You can’t drink my fucking coffee! You don’t even fucking know me!”

He had to calm down but his heart had a mind of its own, beating faster than the tears were falling and squeezing all the blood out of his body until it felt like he was going to turn into dust right here on the kitchen tiles.

He slid his fingers into his hair and took great fistfuls of the shaggy white locks, screwing his eyes shut and trying to remember the breathing techniques. The pain was unbearable and he couldn’t even tell where it was coming from.

It was just … everywhere. All the time. And it never went away.

“Seonghwa, tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you.”

Why? So they could tell everyone how they’d played the roles of the selfless heroes who had bravely confronted the spiralling psych patient and prevented him from making another attempt on his miserable worthless life?

“Get out!” he screamed, so loudly he thought his throat might tear, still ripping at his own hair as if he could wrench the strands from his scalp. “Get out! Get out! Get out! I don’t want you here! I don’t need you here! Whatever you want from me, I don’t have it so just get the fuck away from me!”

He stumbled, throwing his hands out to catch himself and accidentally sending the tray of mugs crashing to the floor. The china shattered on impact, jagged fragments skimming over the linoleum and skittering into the four corners of the room.

The noise was too much. He sank to his knees, hands clamped over his ears and sobs ripping through his chest at a speed that made him dizzy even from where he was huddled against the kitchen counter with nowhere left to fall.

He was always falling.

“Jesus Christ,” somebody muttered above his head.  _ Hongjoong  _ muttered above his head. “He really is a nutcase.”

The door clicked shut but Seonghwa didn’t need to open his eyes to know that they were gone. They’d left, just like he’d needed them to, but he was already too far in to pull back out. He was just falling, flailing, floundering.

He could smell blood. There was something sticky dripping from the tips of his fingers. At some point he must have cut his hand on one of the mugs but he was in too much pain to identify the source of a single injury when the thing that hurt the most was intangible.

He was all alone. He was  _ always  _ alone. That was what he’d wanted, right? So why did he feel so empty and frightened? Why did he want to have those warm arms around him? Why did he want to bury his face in that chest? 

In Hongjoong’s chest.

His body was moving but he couldn’t even feel the floor against his shoulder as he slid sideways. His head fell against the tiles, his knees gravitated towards his stomach, his hands curled into fists in front of him and he sobbed.

Alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, this is only going to get worse before it gets better💜


	4. The Nutcase and The Junkie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **no real triggers.  
> read carefully regardless.**

Seonghwa poked at the questionably flaccid-looking meat on his lunch tray and decided right there and then that he was going vegan. 

Lord Pan would be so proud. Hermes and Hestia, on the other hand, would probably curse the fact that they’d lost another one to the dark side but there was no way he was eating the stuff ever again.

The cafeteria was noisy as always but, as the days started getting colder, Seonghwa found himself sitting down at one of those tables more often than not. Mingi hated winter weather and summer. Generally he hated the outdoors and since Jongho had found Seonghwa barely conscious on the kitchen floor three days ago, he and Yunho hadn’t left his side.

They walked him to all his classes, even though they were on the opposite side of campus, and they sat with him every lunchtime just to make sure he was eating. Even Jongho, who was apparently majoring in psychology, had gotten in on the action. He’d made it his duty to monitor Seonghwa’s caffeine intake since coffee was apparently not going to help his anxiety nor his insomnia.

Seonghwa couldn’t say he minded them too much. He’d gotten used to Mingi and Yunho’s fussing over the years and Jongho wasn’t exactly invasive. What he did mind was the fact that he couldn’t get Hongjoong’s words out of his head.

_ He really is a nutcase. _

He’d been spiralling, panicking, losing his mind and he’d wanted to save himself the humiliation of having three strangers watching him crash and burn, and so he’d lashed out and ordered them to leave but only now that he was looking back did he realise that hadn’t been what he’d actually wanted.

He’d wanted them to stay because they made him feel normal. They’d made him feel like, maybe, he could be a part of something. They’d made him wonder if they were different from all the other people who stared at him every time he walked past.

But then they’d left. 

“Heads up!” somebody screamed just as a shoe came flying at Mingi’s head.

He ducked out of the way and surfaced just in time to see the sneaker land directly in the centre of his lunch tray, splashing gravy across the table.

“Shit … Sorry, man.”

The guy who’d thrown the offending object limped over and plucked his missing item of clothing from what was left of Mingi’s meal. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and carelessly deposited a few bills on the table, supposedly to compensate for the damage, before he was gone again.

“Hey, Mingi.” Jesus, they just wanted to eat in peace. “Wanna have lunch with us?”

It was a girl who’d spoken, clearly underdressed for the weather and with overly long eyelashes that fluttered seductively at Mingi as if he were the only person in the world. Behind her, her little posse were whispering and giggling and nudging each other like a bunch of middle schoolers.

“Um … I’m having lunch with my friends,” Mingi gestured to the table and spoke with a tone that clearly said ‘leave us alone’ but the girl merely glanced over at Yunho and winked.

“Oh, he can come, too.” 

Seonghwa huffed. This was the part of lunch he hated the most. He didn’t mind Mingi being popular but he did mind it when Mingi was being popular on his, Seonghwa’s, time. They were supposed to be having a quiet friendly lunch but the amount of people who worshipped that boy was preventing that.

He had more admirers than Aphrodite herself.

“I’m having lunch with all my friends,” Mingi clarified and only then did the girl’s eyes finally fix themselves on Seonghwa.

Her face lit up for a moment before she realised who she was looking at and then it was just utter distaste. That was the usual reaction. There were three layers to get through whenever one was faced with all that was Park Seonghwa.

First, they saw his high cheekbones, sultry eyes and full lips. Then they saw the psycho who’d tried to kill himself. They usually didn’t stick around for the third layer: the real him that was hidden beneath all of that ‘crazy’.

“Oh …” she said shortly. “Well, we can’t exactly do lunch with him.”

Mingi shrugged, “Then fuck off.”

“But Mingi …” she whined. Actually fucking whined.

“Seriously,” Mingi shot back, anger bleeding through into his voice for the first time. “If you’re gonna be rude then just fuck off.” 

“Come on. We’re wasting our time,” another girl hissed, taking her friend’s elbow and steering her away to another table.

Seonghwa stared daggers at their retreating backs, imagining what they would look like if they were promptly struck by lightning right at this very moment. Maybe if Apollo wouldn’t answer his prayers, Lord Hades would be more inclined to reap their souls. He did enjoy the particularly vile ones after all.

“Stop calling on the wrath of the Gods and eat your lunch,” Yunho commanded, flashing Seonghwa a knowing look that basically said,  _ yeah, I know exactly what you’re thinking.  _

“I can’t eat this,” Seonghwa stated, shoving his tray away.

“Why?”

“I’m vegan.”

“You had chicken yesterday.”

“That was yesterday. Today I’m vegan.”

Mingi and Yunho shared an eyeroll. By now they were used to Seonghwa’s ever changing feelings on mundane aspects of their lives. Sometimes he just ‘didn’t like’ things anymore. It was always too complicated to explain why so they learned to accept it.

“Oh, before I forget,” Mingi piped up. “We have a date on Friday.”

“I’m really not into the whole group sex thing,” came Yunho’s dry reply.

“First of all,” Mingi huffed back. “No, thank you. I’ve seen you naked and I’ve gotta say … not impressed. I mean, we’re going out with Yeosang and his friends.” 

“You mean, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung?” Seonghwa questioned, just for clarification.

He hadn’t seen any of them since he’d chased them from his dorm room. Meeting up with them now would just be embarrassing, uncomfortable and all sorts of wrong.

“Yeah, Yeosang loves group activities,” Mingi sighed with one of those dopey half-smiles on his face.

That boy had been spending every moment in which he wasn’t with Seonghwa or in class with Yeosang. It was cute to watch them flounder around with their chemistry, navigating it like bumper carts at a children’s carnival. It wasn’t Mingi’s first relationship but it was the first time Seonghwa had ever seen him behave this way.

They were an interesting pair to look at: Mingi with his fiery red hair, heavily built body and intimidatingly blazing eyes and Yeosang with his cute and short stature, blonde hair, soft sweaters and sweet little giggle. Not to mention he had a cat named ‘Lord Boop’ of all things.

Seonghwa couldn’t imagine how a kid like that would manage to get himself drawn into a group of people like San and Hongjoong. They were druggies and sort-of-not-really-but-still-very-much assholes. Yeosang was the embodiment of all their opposites.

“I don’t think I want to go on a date with Hongjoong,” Seonghwa voiced only for Mingi to let out a dramatic cry of anguish and grab onto his hand, begging him to come along.

“You gotta!” He seized Seonghwa’s head like a football and tugged it into his chest despite his victim’s affronted attempts to wriggle free. “This is my one chance at happiness!”

“You said that last semester when you met the girl who gave you free coffee every morning.”

“Not important,” Mingi cut Yunho off just as Seonghwa finally succeeded in detaching himself from the headlock. “What’s important is that I’ve found the love of my life –”

Yunho choked, “You’ve known him for a week."

“I still don’t want to go,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath, picking at the scar on his wrist.

Mingi put on his best puppy-dog face complete with sparkling eyes and a shuddering bottom lip. Seonghwa still said ‘no’ and yet, somehow, he found himself sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Wooyoung and San, watching as Hongjoong bowled another gutterball.

He was bad at bowling. Fantastically so. Seonghwa had never met anybody worse.

“Whose idea was this anyway?” the failure mumbled, plonking himself down on the bench beside San.

It was strange being back in his presence especially as he seemed to either be pretending that the other day had never happened or that he and Seonghwa had never shared so much as a word between them in the first place. 

They all looked on as Jongho scored yet another strike and his team cheered. San and Wooyoung were making weird kissy faces at each other over Seonghwa’s shoulder and Hongjoong was just sitting there, typing away on his phone as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

His hair was shoved back with a headband and his pale blue tie dyed hoodie practically swallowed his smallish frame. Seonghwa found himself wondering why he never seemed to wear any clothes that fit.

As if sensing the eyes on him, Hongjoong glanced up and as he identified the culprit, his expression flitted between confused and irritated before he pursed his lips and returned his attention to his phone.

_ He really is a nutcase.  _

He heard the words as clearly as he had that morning in the kitchen. Hongjoong’s voice, echoing in his head, tormenting him.

He had no idea why it mattered. He’d had much worse insults aimed his way but there was something about the fact that it had been Hongjoong who’d spoken the words that hurt so much.

He was the guy who’d found Seonghwa at his most vulnerable and, instead of laughing at him or just leaving him to suffer by himself, had whisked him away to safety. He’d even come by the following morning to check on him, had treated him like a human being and now, because of Seonghwa’s own stupid pride, he was back at square one with him. 

It was suddenly too hard to be in Hongjoong’s presence. San and Wooyoung’s combined body heat from either side of him was overwhelming and the air was too stuffy to breathe.

“I’m going to get some more drinks,” he mumbled to nobody in particular, extricating himself from between the two.

“Get back before your turn,” Yunho called distractedly over his shoulder, probably without even noticing the half-hearted thumbs up that Seonghwa sent him in response.

The line at the counter was short but, truth be told, he wished it was longer. Then he’d have an excuse to just stand here, away from the rest of them, for long enough to catch his breath and get his wits about him.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Seonghwa barely suppressed a groan, glancing skywards and whispering a brief prayer to the heavens, “Zeus … big guy … I never call on you for anything but please … this is a one-time thing.”

“Who are you talking to?” Soobin giggled, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed sceptically over his chest.

“None of your business.”

“You’re talking to yourself, aren’t you?” He had the nerve to let out a huff of amusement. “I thought they cured that kind of thing at the facility.”

“Can you, like … fuck off for once?” Seonghwa grumbled as he shuffled forwards with the line. “Why are you even here?”

“Came with some friends. Bowling is pretty popular among the students.” 

Soobin ran his spindly fingers through his purplish hair and expelled a long sigh of content. And Seonghwa hated him. His stupid long legs and smug face and uncanny ability to find every one of Seonghwa’s buttons just so he could tap dance on them until the boy broke.

“Yeah, real popular …”

Soobin gave him a look and, surprisingly, lowered his voice, as though trying to be considerate of his companion’s emotional state as he murmured the words, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine … just –” Seonghwa caught himself before he could say more.

How pathetic could one person be? About to spill his innermost thoughts to his arch nemesis just because he’d shown him a little concern. He must be craving human interaction outside of Yunho and Mingi more than he’d realised if Soobin was the one he was turning to.

He loved his friends but, at this precise moment in time, they were his  _ only  _ friends. He needed some variety.

“Oh, I caught you in time.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Yeosang jogging up to his side, a little breathless but still grinning madly.

“Yeah, I’m next.” Seonghwa gestured to the counter where the last person was pushing their coins across the table.

“Great. Mingi wants cheese fries with his soda.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, “Don’t spoil him. He’ll take advantage of you.”

Yeosang only laughed, prompting Soobin to raise an eyebrow at him as his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Don’t look at him like that,” Seonghwa hissed defensively. “He’s Mingi’s boyfriend.”

“What was that?” Yeosang cut in.

“Nothing. Have you met Soobin?”

He waved distractedly to the purple-haired boy who nodded in greeting, still chuckling to himself like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. 

“Oh …” Yeosang nodded slowly. “Soobin your old roommate, right? Mingi told me about him.”

He didn’t attempt to shake his hand or anything. He just inclined his head as a matter of polite courtesy before turning back to Seonghwa. It was a weird and awkward interaction and it was precisely the atmosphere that Seonghwa had come here to avoid. 

“I guess I’ll leave you in capable hands then. Take care of yourself, Hwa,” Soobin mused, eyeing Yeosang who pointedly ignored him before he turned on his heel and swanned off.

Seonghwa breathed a soft sigh of relief and dug the tips of his fingers into his eyes. A combination of the thumping music, the thriving anxiety and the crush of sweaty bodies packed together under one roof was starting to give him a major headache.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Yeosang ordering their drinks and Mingi’s cheese fries, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly relieved that he didn’t have to do it himself. He hated talking to strangers when he was feeling like this.

“You good?” Yeosang tossed over at him. “You need me to get Yunho or something?”

“No,” Seonghwa snapped back, a little harsher than he’d intended. “I’m fine. Just … I don’t really like social gatherings.”

“I heard.”

Was there anything this boy hadn’t heard? Was Mingi going around spewing all his secrets? Did the entire campus know by now that Seonghwa despised human interaction or that he split his time between wanting to be snuggled beneath a big fluffy blanket and hissing at anyone who came near him?

“I really appreciate you coming though,” Yeosang continued as he gathered their drinks onto a tray. “Even if you hate stuff like this. It means a lot that you make the effort.”

He was trying to be kind and compassionate – he was actually  _ succeeding  _ in doing so – and yet Seonghwa couldn’t help but shoot a glance over his shoulder at where Hongjoong was sitting, completely detached from the rest of the party and still engrossed in his phone.

It seemed that not everybody was glad that he’d tagged along.

“Hongjoong’s been through a lot.”

Seonghwa came back to reality with a thump, “What?”

“I said, Hongjoong’s been through a lot,” Yeosang repeated. “His parents are assholes. They don’t give a fuck whether he lives or dies so long as he doesn’t tarnish their reputation.”

It didn’t surprise Seonghwa. Either Hongjoong’s mother and father had no idea their son was a drug addict or they were just sweeping it under the rug. Everyone had a sob story but that didn’t mean he had an excuse to be a dick.

“All I’m saying is, he’s not good with emotions,” Yeosang levelled as he started carrying the tray back to their lane. “Sometimes he says things he doesn’t mean and means things he doesn’t say. You have to be patient with him.”

Seonghwa wanted to scoff but Yeosang was already filtering himself back into the conversation with the others. 

He had his own problems to deal with, the crippling psychiatric disease being one of them. Where was he supposed to find the time to be ‘patient’ with somebody like Hongjoong?

Why would he want to? That douchebag had voiced his true feelings so why was Seonghwa supposed to be the one to start building bridges when it was obvious that the other side had no interest in any sort of truce?

The rest of the night was more or less a blur while Seonghwa himself was just a paperweight. Stuck to the floor, pinning everything else down while the world whizzed by around him. He bowled when it was his turn, he laughed when everybody else did but he wasn’t part of the fun by any means.

Wooyoung had confiscated Hongjoong’s phone, whining something about technology rotting the brain, and since then the guy had been a little more in touch with the game they were playing but he was still resolutely avoiding Seonghwa’s eye contact.

He felt so detached. Excluded. Like they’d only brought him along out of courtesy but now had realised that he was just too weird to ever be accepted into the friendly collective that seemed to be forming from their two separate groups.

When they laughed, it was as if they were laughing at him. When someone made a joke, nobody even glanced his way to see if he was finding it just as funny. When he stepped up to bowl, they cheered for him but then he sat down and immediately became one with the furniture again.

It was too much.

Without bothering to excuse himself since nobody would even realise he was gone if he did, he scrambled up from his place at the end of the bench and elbowed his way through the congregation of whooping youths until he found the bathroom door.

He just needed quiet. Just for a little while. Just so he could count to ten a few times in his head and have a moment of peace and quiet before he forced himself to return.

But of fucking course the universe wouldn’t let him have that.

He shouldered his way into the bathroom, thankful that the music was a lot more distant once the door swung shut, but when he glanced up, there was already somebody standing at the sink.

And that somebody just had to be Kim Hongjoong.

Seonghwa almost turned around and walked straight back out. He didn’t want to be alone with somebody who’d made it very clear just how they felt about him, but he stopped himself just in time as the thought occurred to him: He wasn’t going to show Hongjoong that what he’d said had affected him so badly.

He also really needed a moment of quiet or else he was going to spiral. Again.

Trying to hold his head as high as he could in his state of jittery discomfort, he marched straight past Hongjoong to the sink that was furthest from the door and twisted the tap. Immediately a jet of ice cold water splattered into the basin and he stooped down to splash his face.

“Seonghwa …”

_ No. No. Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you. _

“I need to apologise.”

Seonghwa glared up at him, sodden face dripping into the sink. Hongjoong almost withered beneath the intensity but managed to hold his ground even if he was rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck and looking as if he’d rather be wrestling a hippo.

“The other day … I shouldn’t have …”

“No,” Seonghwa spat before he could finish. “You shouldn’t have.”

He turned off the faucet and wrenched a couple of paper towels out of the holder to dry his face. It was also an excuse to hide his slowly reddening eyes. The very last thing he wanted – the  _ very  _ last thing – was to start crying right now.

Why had this son of a bitch’s words caused him so much pain?

“I know.”

_ Jesus, take a hint. _

“I got mad when you screamed at us and I just said the first thing that came to my mind and … it was an asshole move and I’m sorry. I never should have opened my mouth and I never should have left you there either.”

His eyes travelled down to Seonghwa’s hands and to the healing wound that stretched across his palm from where he’d cut himself on the broken mug.

“What the fuck is your deal?” Seonghwa whispered incredulously from across the bathroom tiles.

Hongjoong blanched, “I’m sorry?”

“This whole back and forth thing,” Seonghwa elaborated, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “First you’re laughing at me and calling me ‘Mars’ like everybody else, then you’re helping me through a breakdown and offering to walk me to school, then you’re insulting me and giving me dirty looks and now you’re apologising!”

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was too confusing. Either people pretended they didn’t know who he was and tried to be nice to him or they made fun of him. They didn’t go back and forth like some sick kind of pendulum.

“In case you haven’t heard, Hongjoong, I’m the one who’s supposed to be bipolar.”

“I’m an idiot, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong declared in defeat. “Is that what you want to hear? I run my mouth off and I say stupid things in the moment and then I regret them instantly. I’ve been sitting out there all night, staring at my phone so that I don’t have to look at you and remind myself of what I said to you while I try and figure out a way to apologise.”

Seonghwa was stumped at that. He’d thought Hongjoong had been giving him the silent treatment out of spite or disgust or whatever it was that had caused him to spew that phrase –  _ he really is a nutcase –  _ but, apparently, he’d just been at a loss for what to say.

Seonghwa could relate to that.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong repeated, and he really did look it. “If I could take it back then I would. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why the fuck not? Everybody else does!”

“Well, then I’m not everybody else!”

They were shouting now. Shouting at each other across the bathroom at the back of the bowling alley. If anybody walked in on them right now then not only would it be awkward as hell but they’d also look like a pair of total lunatics.

“What can I say?” Hongjoong breathed as he closed the distance between them until they were standing face to face. “What can I say to make you believe that I really am sorry?”

Seonghwa’s heart was in his throat. He’d never before noticed how long Hongjoong’s eyelashes were. Or that he had a little pinkish blemish on the peak of his right cheekbone. Or that he could practically see the stars blinking in his pupils.

“You can pick a persona,” he choked, barely managing to stop himself from taking a step back. “And you can stick with it. Be my friend or hate me. I don’t care which, but you can’t be both.”

Hongjoong moved a little closer. So close that Seonghwa could feel his breath on his face.

“Is there a third option?”

If there was, what was it supposed to be? Seonghwa’s mind was blank and it was only getting blanker with every minute that Hongjoong continued to look at him like that. Like he had never been more regretful in his entire life and like he’d do anything to make it right again.

He could practically hear the blood rushing in his ears and, at first, he’d believed it was because of an approaching meltdown but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t take his eyes off Hongjoong’s lips. Why couldn’t he take his eyes off Hongjoong’s lips?

And why were Hongjoong’s lips getting so close to his own?

The little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to draw back and move away, that there was absolutely no possibility of something happening here and he was only going to humiliate himself by believing that it would, but he couldn’t move.

He wanted it. He wanted those lips to touch his but he shouldn’t. Even if Hongjoong was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever laid eyes on, he shouldn’t be allowing this to happen. It was a terrible idea. It would only make things a hundred times worse and a thousand times more complicated.

So why wasn’t he putting a stop to it?

“Can I?” Hongjoong whispered, so softly that it was barely audible.

He was asking for permission. For an invitation. A word of consent. He was giving Seonghwa the opportunity to back out and Seonghwa knew that he should – that nothing good would ever come from kissing this boy in a public bathroom of all places – but he didn’t want to.

He wanted to know what it would feel like. He wanted to know if it would help calm the storm inside his head and soothe the pounding of his heart. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to kiss Hongjoong before but, God, did he want to now.

Without waiting to give a reply, he moved forwards those precious few centimetres and connected their mouths.

It was the shortest brush of lips, barely even a kiss, almost like a test run before the real thing. Hongjoong withdrew just a little, eyes raking over Seonghwa’s face for any sign of discomfort or reluctance, but there was none.

Only then did they truly kiss.

It was slow, gentle and nervous but somehow still so  _ perfect.  _ Hongjoong’s hands trailed their way up his arms until they could cup his face. Seonghwa wanted to touch him, too, but he didn’t know where or how so he just settled for resting his palms on either side of Hongjoong’s waist.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, everything – both inside and outside of his head – was completely silent. 

Even when the two of them finally came up for air, there wasn’t a trace of anything in the universe besides themselves and each other. Hongjoong was panting slightly, eyes a little wide with shock, but he was smiling up at Seonghwa like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Seonghwa didn’t know what to think.

He’d just kissed Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong. The popular guy. The junkie. It had felt so good but now that it was over, the euphoric sensation that had blossomed in his gut was turning to ice and it was spreading throughout his body and freezing him solid.

This couldn’t happen. He was already a laughing stock. He was already the subject of everybody’s stares and whispers. He was already the kid who’d tried to kill himself. He couldn’t be the kid who’d tried to kill himself _and_ the kid who was dating the popular guy.

Things didn’t work that way. Hongjoong couldn’t like him that way. He was just feeling guilty for what he’d said. That was the only reason he’d just done that. He was feeling guilty and he’d wanted to do something that would distract Seonghwa from how hurt he’d been and so he’d kissed him.

It wasn’t real. It was a ploy or a manipulation or a prank. Were there cameras? Were people about to leap out of the stalls and point at him while they laughed? Were Mingi and Yunho in on it, too? Was that why Mingi had forced him to come along tonight? So they could play this cruel joke on him?

How could he have thought – even for a moment – that Kim Hongjoong could possibly be interested in him? The school freak. The nutcase. The psycho. The kid with bipolar and suicidal tendencies. The kid who’d had to be locked up in a mental institution because he’d slit his own wrist in the school bathroom.

And now he was the kid who’d allowed himself to be kissed and humiliated. Again, in the bathroom.

He had to get out of here.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called out but Seonghwa was already dodging past him and throwing open the door. “Seonghwa, wait!”

He didn’t bother to wait. He didn’t want to wait. He didn’t alert Yunho or Mingi to the fact that he was leaving or even stop to give back the bowling shoes. He staggered out onto the street and didn’t stop running until he’d reached the dorms.

He turned off his phone, he pulled the blankets over his head, he buried his face in his pillow and screamed himself to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why are you doing this to yourself?


	5. Problems And Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, if you need the trigger warnings, I'm wondering why you're still reading the story. Just proceed with caution if you're sensitive to topics such as suicide.

The following morning, Seonghwa got himself up before the alarm had a chance to do it for him. He hadn’t really slept properly anyway, only catching an hour or two at a time and waking up to full body shakes in between.

Every time he thought about how Hongjoong’s body had felt pressed up against him and how soft his lips had been, he felt like his skin was crawling with disgust. Not at Hongjoong. Hongjoong was beautiful and perfect and had been so adamant that he give Seonghwa a choice in whether or not he wanted to do it.

No, Seonghwa was disgusted with himself.

He’d run away like a coward without giving Hongjoong so much as a reason why. That boy probably thought it was his fault, that he’d done something wrong or that he’d forced Seonghwa into doing something he didn’t feel comfortable with. It wasn’t fair.

Hongjoong deserved an explanation but just the thought of facing him after he’d made such a total fool of himself was enough to physically sicken Seonghwa to his stomach and then he felt even guiltier and more pathetic.

When he wasn’t tossing and turning, he’d been staring up at the ceiling, alone with his thoughts, but that pastime had started to drive him crazy so, without waking Jongho, he slipped out of their room and took a seat at the kitchen table.

His pills were sitting in his palm, the glass of water ready and waiting in front of him, and he wondered what would happen if he didn’t take them. He knew he needed to, that he would go crazy without their chemicals in his system, but sometimes he asked himself if they were really helping him.

Since he’d started swallowing doses every morning, he’d been unable to properly focus on anything for too long and his concentration was abysmal. He could barely make it through a single class without feeling the need to get up and start moving around.

But whatever unpleasant side effects came along with the label on the side of the box, Seonghwa knew that the symptoms he would experience without them were so much worse. So he tossed his head back, shovelled the pills into his mouth and washed them down with the water.

His scar was staring him right in the face just like it always did when he was feeling like a waste of space. It was ugly and obvious and just reminded him of that horrible day in which he’d so nearly left the world for good.

No matter how many times he said it, nobody believed him when he insisted it had been an accident. They looked at the wound, they ran his psychiatric evaluation and they concluded that he was a danger to himself and that was it. They needed no further proof.

They stripped him of his rights and locked him in a box as punishment for his irresponsible and reckless behaviour. Those months he’d spent incarcerated between the same four walls had undoubtedly been the worst of his life.

The humiliation, the helplessness, the feeling of shame and the loss of control over his own existence. He would do absolutely anything to make sure he never had to go through something like that again.

If he allowed whatever  _ this  _ was with Hongjoong to progress, however, that was exactly what would happen to him.

“You’re a thief.”

He jumped so violently that his knee hit the underside of the table and pain ricocheted through his bones. Jongho huffed out a laugh from the doorway to their bedroom before padding across the kitchen tiles and reaching for the coffee pot.

“I have to say, though, if you’re going to steal something … why bowling shoes?”

Seonghwa faceplanted into the table, bringing his arms up to cover his head and groaning loudly. He’d completely forgotten about the bowling shoes.

“Relax,” Jongho assured him, amusement heavy in his tone. “One of my classmates is working a shift there tonight. He’ll drop them off for you.”

Seonghwa grunted his thanks, still without lifting his head. If he could just become one with the table, that would be fine with him. Tables didn’t have to talk or go to college or take medication or kiss people.

Oh, how to be a table.

“What happened to you last night?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Seonghwa mumbled, voice slightly muffled from beneath his arms. “I’m living in denial.”

“I can see that,” Jongho mused. “Something went on between you and Hongjoong, didn’t it?”

Seonghwa’s head shot up so fast that he almost broke his neck, eyes wide as saucers and jaw hanging open as he stared at Jongho and the mug of freshly steaming coffee in his hand.

“Why do you say that?” he croaked in a panic. “Did he say something? What did he say?”

If Hongjoong had told anyone they’d kissed, it would make this whole process so much more painful. He couldn’t erase what had happened if he had Mingi and Yunho constantly asking him if he was finally going to start dating and Wooyoung pointing out how “cute” they were together even if he and San were the embodiment of sickly-sweet themselves.

“Nothing,” Jongho backtracked calmly. “I am a psych major, remember? I can read the room.”

There was a very long pause where Seonghwa just stared at him sceptically.

Jongho sighed, “Hongjoong went to the bathroom. Then you went to the bathroom. Then Hongjoong comes back looking like he’s been crying and you don’t come back at all. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Seonghwa.”

It was like somebody had dunked his heart in a tub of ice.

“Hongjoong was crying?”

Jongho narrowed his eyes slightly over the top of his coffee mug even as he bobbed his head and Seonghwa wanted to shrivel up and die right there on the spot. Guilt didn’t even begin to describe the sensation that was eating away at him.

This was why he and Hongjoong had no chance. He was a flight risk, a ticking time bomb, a poisonous snake. Even if that kiss had been real, there was no way it could progress into anything more. If it did, Seonghwa would freak out and Hongjoong would get hurt.

Hongjoong would cry.

He couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t fair.

Jongho seemed to have realised that he wouldn’t be getting anything else out of Seonghwa and, barely five minutes later, the morning alarm went off anyway, signalling the arousal of the two giants from the other room.

Seonghwa sat there in silence, lost inside his own head as Mingi and Yunho emerged from the depths of sleep and mumbled their morning greetings. They asked him why he’d run off the previous night but Jongho clearly sent them some kind of silent message because they abandoned that line of questioning without waiting for an answer.

A bowl of cereal was placed in front of him and a spoon was pressed into his hand but it took him several more moments to get his muscles in motion and start eating.

He needed to talk to Hongjoong. He needed him to know that they could never again do something so stupid but then there was that crushing sense of despair that engulfed him the moment he thought about it.

The kiss had felt so good. And Hongjoong was just so … great.

Seonghwa needed more time. He would take a couple of days to get himself together and then they would talk, but not before then, because Seonghwa needed more time to figure out how he was supposed to tell Hongjoong they couldn’t ever be a thing without making him feel like he was the problem.

Seonghwa was the problem.

Seonghwa would always be the problem.

\---------------------------

Hongjoong was everywhere. No matter where Seonghwa looked, he was just _there._ Passing him in the hallway, standing a few people behind him in the lunch queue, subtly trying to catch his eye from across the canteen.

He wanted to talk and address what had happened but that was singularly the very last thing that Seonghwa was interested in. He was getting his first paper back that afternoon and he needed to prove to himself that his grades were still as good as they had been before his ‘accident’.

Hongjoong could wait. Hongjoong was not the priority. Not today.

Yunho had been giving Seonghwa worried glances throughout the course of their lunch hour. Mingi was too engrossed in his phone, probably texting Yeosang if the adorable smile on his face was anything to go by, and so Yunho had taken up the role of sole caregiver.

Seonghwa understood that it was meant to be comforting and reassuring, letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that he forever had his best friend in his corner, but it was beginning to get irritating.

He didn’t want to discuss the previous night, he didn’t want to see Hongjoong and he didn’t want to catch Yunho’s sympathetic glances from the other side of the table. He just wanted to be left alone so he could focus on the last lecture of the day.

That was the reason he excused himself – very abruptly and probably quite rudely – from their little congregation and left the canteen with swift strides. It wasn’t exactly like there had been a great deal of conversation going on what with Mingi’s infatuation in his phone and Yunho’s stony silence but Seonghwa still felt a twinge of guilt.

They were only trying to help. It’s all they’d ever done for him. Visited him in the hospital when no one else would, asked for his lectures to be recorded so he could catch up over the summer break, watching him like hawks for any sign of a meltdown or a relapse.

And he treated them so poorly for it. He’d always known that he didn’t deserve them but it was moments like these when he truly felt the crushing weight of the self-hatred settling itself in his gut.

“Seonghwa?”

He almost cursed out loud as his name was shouted down the hallway but he kept his mouth shut and his feet moving, hoping against hope that whoever was calling him would just accept the fact that he wanted nothing to do with them.

They didn’t.

“Seonghwa, please, wait!”

It was Hongjoong. Seonghwa could tell from the anxious little gasps and the patter of approaching footsteps as the boy sprinted the length of the corridor to catch up with him. 

He increased his pace, eyeing the door straight ahead that would lead him into the lecture hall, but Hongjoong’s tiny hand clamped down on his elbow before he could make it.

“Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa spun on his heel, wrenching his arm free and glaring at the slightly breathless boy in front of him with as much hostility as he could muster. The violence with which Hongjoong cringed away from him was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

“What do you want?”

Hongjoong recovered himself, face slightly flushed and fingers picking at each other. He didn’t quite make eye contact but his gaze was imploring, pleading, begging for Seonghwa to understand.

“Please let me talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Seonghwa snapped.

He was already turning to leave when Hongjoong blurted the words, “I’m sorry.”

He froze, listening to the sound of his companion’s breathing from behind him as he tried to come to terms with what was happening. He’d known that Hongjoong would feel wrongfully guilty for what had transpired in that bathroom but he’d been expecting a little more spunk.

Hongjoong sounded desperate. Like he was barely clinging onto sanity and Seonghwa’s cooperation was all he needed to heave himself back over the edge.

“I’m sorry for kissing you. It … It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and I should have asked you for your permission first.”

He had. He was making it sound like Seonghwa hadn’t kissed him back. Like Seonghwa hadn’t been the one to actually initiate the contact. It was like he was taking all the blame for himself and it felt like it was breaking him.

“I know I don’t deserve it but please –  _ please  _ – just talk to me so that I know you’re okay.”

Seonghwa turned around, truly at a loss for what to say. The back of his throat was burning uncomfortably, his chest was unpleasantly tight and it only got worse when he saw the watery glint in Hongjoong’s eyes that indicated the presence of tears.

That was twice now that he’d made Hongjoong cry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered yet again. “I’m so sorry, Seonghwa. I took advantage and …”

“You didn’t take advantage,” Seonghwa interrupted, unable to stay silent any longer. “I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t inebriated. I knew exactly what I was doing and I wanted it so you can stop with this whole self-pity thing. You did nothing wrong.”

He knew his words still sounded terse and sharp but it was his only defence mechanism. Standing here, in the middle of an empty corridor, with Hongjoong’s teary eyes staring back at him, he’d never felt more vulnerable.

Every single one of his barriers had been torn down. His protective shields had been stripped away and now he was completely exposed to whatever Hongjoong decided to throw at him. If it was another insult, another poke at his mental health condition, then he knew it would shatter him.

“You did nothing wrong,” he echoed blandly.

“Then why?” Hongjoong croaked in response. “Why did you run off like that? Why have you been avoiding me all day? Why won’t you even look at me?”

Seonghwa glanced up and their eyes locked and suddenly everything was a billion times more painful.

“Trust me, Hongjoong,” he rasped out, once again looking down. “You want nothing to do with me.”

Yet again, he tried to walk away but Hongjoong was insistent. His stubbornness was infuriating but the determination in his expression didn’t falter as he scrambled around Seonghwa to block his path.

“Who are you to decide what I do and don’t want?”

Seonghwa couldn’t look at him. Not again. Every time he saw himself reflected in those starry orbs, he was reminded of who he was and what Hongjoong would be sacrificing if he chose to go down this dark and dangerous road.

They were no good for each other. They would hurt each other. They may even destroy each other. Seonghwa knew they could never share anything other than friendship – if even that – so why was he so desperate to wrap Hongjoong in his arms and tell him to stop crying?

“Do you know why everyone calls me ‘Mars’?”

Hongjoong faltered, blinking out his first tear and almost immediately swabbing it aside.

“I … That’s the English translation of your name, right? I thought that's all it was.”

“No,” Seonghwa shook his head. “Some kid came up with it after I was put in hospital and it spread and spread until it was too distorted for anyone to remember why it started up in the first place. Some people think it’s a cool nickname, others know that I hate it but no one knows what it means.”

He swallowed thickly, painfully aware of how intently Hongjoong was listening to him and fighting back the memories of all those months ago. He’d never thought he’d be explaining this to anybody, least of all the popular guy with the drug problem who’d kissed him in the bowling alley bathroom.

“Mars is the God of war,” he finally ground out through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides. “The roman equivalent of Ares. He symbolises blood, death and destruction. Do you get it now? I destroy things, Hongjoong. I destroy people. That’s who I am and that’s why you should get as far away from me as you can before I destroy you, too.”

He thought of his parents, working themselves into the ground to pay for his medication, his therapy, his stay in the psychiatric unit. He thought of Yunho and Mingi, constantly altering their schedules and missing out on things they wanted to do just so that he didn’t have to be alone.

He was like a rotten apple. Sooner or later, he would end up poisoning the whole barrel and if he could save just one more person from chaining themselves to his sinking ship, he would do whatever it took.

He would not take Hongjoong down with him as well.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glaring at the carpet as if it had done him a personal wrong. “But I need to get to my lecture and you should get to yours.”

There was still ten minutes before the period started, something that they both were aware of, but Seonghwa couldn’t bear to watch Hongjoong scrambling to keep himself together for another second.

It was better this way. He wished he’d had more time to figure out what he was going to say but, ultimately, this was always how it was going to end. And it was better this way.

“Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong cried out, and his voice cracked. 

Seonghwa would have kept walking but a hand slipped into his, petite fingers squeezing his palm so tightly that the skin turned white. 

“Please … Seonghwa, please … I just … Right now, I need someone who’s not going to walk away from me.”

He was making it too hard and their hands fit so perfectly together, like they were crafted specifically to meet one another, and he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was crying anymore. His breaths were hitched and his grip was tight and Seonghwa knew that if he looked at him, he wouldn’t be able to do what had to be done.

“Well, that someone can’t be me.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong sobbed, losing any and all control as soon as Seonghwa pried their hands apart. “Seonghwa, please … Please can you just … Can we just talk for a second? Please, Seonghwa …”

Seonghwa walked away.

It was the most torturous, selfish and disgusting act he’d ever committed but he didn’t even look back. He just shifted his bag slightly higher on his shoulder and strode forwards, through the door to the lecture hall, abandoning Hongjoong to cry in the corridor alone.

Needless to say, he was not at all focused on whatever his professor was saying that day.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt that boy. He’d wanted nothing more than to tuck that boy’s head beneath his chin and stroke his hair, but he’d done what was necessary. Hongjoong would have brought him nothing but pain and, in turn, Seonghwa would have torn him to pieces.

A drug addict with an impulsive urge to spew insults and a manic depressive who could barely make it through a day without crumpling to the floor in hysterics was a toxic combination.

But Hongjoong had sounded so broken, had pleaded with Seonghwa not to leave him alone, had sounded like he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, and Seonghwa had just walked away. He hadn’t even looked back.

Could he really call that protecting Hongjoong? Or was he simply protecting himself? Was he so afraid of letting himself be vulnerable with someone that he was willing to turn his back on a person who was begging for help? Was that what this illness had turned him into?

He felt like a ghost that could only sit and stare into the abyss. He didn’t write a single word for the whole ninety-minute lecture and when it was over, it took him several moments to register the fact that everybody was leaving for the day.

He felt like a ghost but Hongjoong was the one doing the haunting.

Seonghwa broke his own tradition of keeping his eyes on the floor as he walked and instead took the extra effort to look into every face he passed, waiting for the moment when he recognised the features. Waiting for the moment that he saw Hongjoong.

But, despite loitering in the corner of his eye for the entire day, Hongjoong was nowhere to be found. Seonghwa couldn’t identify the sensation that clenched in his gut but he was certain that he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

And that sensation only got worse when San came scampering up to him with his face pale and his brow knitted with concern.

“Have you seen Hongjoong? He didn’t show up to class and I’m kind of freaking out.”

Seonghwa’s spine began to tingle as he shook his head, “No … I … Why are you freaking out?”

He wasn’t supposed to be worried, he tried to remind himself. He wasn’t supposed to care. Hongjoong couldn’t mean anything to him and yet his heart was thumping against the inside of his ribcage and he couldn’t get the broken sound of Hongjoong’s voice out of his head.

San cursed, raking his fingers through his hair and turning on the spot to scan the crowd. 

“He’s been in one of his rough patches lately and none of us have been able to pull him out of it. Usually, we can talk him down and if that doesn’t work, we just smoke the pain away but … this time … it’s different. I just … I have to find him. See you later, Seonghwa.”

He sprinted off, weaving through the cloud of students slowly making their way homeward, and leaving Seonghwa struck dumb.

The words San had used. He’d heard those words before. ‘Talk him down’, ‘rough patches’, ‘pull him out’, ‘smoke the pain away’ and, of course, by far the most worrying, ‘I have to find him’. What would happen if they didn’t? What would Hongjoong do? Would he hurt himself? Would he go that far?

_ ‘Right now, I need someone who’s not going to walk away from me’. _

It hit him like a tonne of bricks.

“Oh my God … Oh, fuck …”

He couldn’t draw breath. His ribs were splintering and his blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was about to beat out of his chest and he could do nothing more than spin in circles, praying to see Hongjoong’s face embedded in the throng.

But some part of him knew he wasn’t going to be there.

_ I need someone who’s not going to walk away from me. _

If that wasn’t a cry for help then Seonghwa didn’t know what was. No, it wasn’t even a cry. It was a fucking scream. One that Seonghwa had made himself on countless occasions and yet once he was faced with it, he’d chosen to ignore it.

Hongjoong had literally spelled it out for him.  _ Please don’t walk away from me.  _ And Seonghwa had done just that.

He’d walked away and, in the process, he may have assisted a suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody, please send all your love to our wonderful MinYun. I adore you, girl!


	6. La Cucaracha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we need to keep adding trigger warnings at this point? Why are you still reading this? Do you have some kind of personal vendetta against yourself? 
> 
> BTW, is this the first time you've read a story where the writers actually discourage you from reading their work? Because if so, that's hilarious.

Seonghwa’s heart had somehow managed to crawl from his chest – where it was desperately needed – and wedge itself in his throat, cutting off the air supply that was frantically trying to make it to his lungs and causing the pressure in his ribcage to build and build until he felt like it was about to burst.

Every time he found a new location empty, void, Hongjoong-free, he felt himself getting more and more frantic until the urge to just sink into a hole and burrow down to the Earth’s core almost enveloped him entirely. He had to fight through it.

He had to find Hongjoong. 

He wanted to pull his hair out. He wanted to scream and cry and beg but this was all his fault. He’d done this. He’d done this and he had to make it right before it was too late.

He checked the Cove, the dorms, the art buildings … He didn’t know Hongjoong well enough to think of any other places where he would run to find solace. He’d searched everywhere he could and now he was just bursting into classrooms, gaining a few disgruntled looks for his troubles.

He didn’t care. He would take a million of those looks if just one of them could tell him where Hongjoong was.

Seonghwa had done this. This was his fault and if Hongjoong was still out there, living … breathing, then he wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to speak to him again.

“Where is he?” he whispered to no god in particular as he staggered into the bathroom. “Please … Where is he?”

He kicked every stall open, cursing when he found them empty.

Which god would answer him at a time like this? With the blood roaring in his ears, he wasn’t sure he would be able to hear a response even if one came his way. Tears of frustration burned his sinuses and he braced himself against the sink, allowing his heart a moment to battle its way back down to where it was supposed to reside. 

“Where is he …?”

“Seonghwa!”

The shout of a familiar voice had him choking on his own breath.

“Hey, Seonghwa!”

He span around wildly only to lock eyes with the person he’d grown to hate yet couldn’t even spare an insult for.

“Why are you running around?” Soobin gasped as he jogged up to him. 

It sounded like he’d been running, too. How long had he been chasing him? How many times had he called his name before he’d been noticed?

“I don’t … need your … shit right now,” Seonghwa hissed, suddenly painfully aware that he was on the verge of hyperventilation, his words punctured with stutters and gasps.

“Hey, calm down,” Soobin soothed, placing his hands on the student’s shoulders and guiding him down the wall until he was seated safely on the floor. “You’re going to pass out.”

“’M … n’t,” Seonghwa lied between rattling wheezes.

Soobin had been right. Only now that he was sitting, he could see the slivers of darkness at the corners of his vision, only just beginning to spot and fade with the steadily slowing rhythm of his heart.

“That’s it,” Soobin encouraged gently. “Breathe.”

Seonghwa shot him a threatening glare even as he allowed the words to wash over him and calm his palpating lungs, and Soobin barked out a sharp laugh at the anger in his eyes.

“You must be feeling okay if you’re still trying to vaporise me.”

Seonghwa fell back against the wall and buried his face in his hands, “I’m not okay … Nothing about this is okay.”

“Tell me how to help you, Hwa. I know you hate me but just let me help.”

The broken boy raised his head suspiciously and studied the huge eyes that were staring back at him, brimming with sincere worry. 

He’d always been worried for Seonghwa. He’d always tried to help no matter how much rudeness he received for his efforts. With Soobin looking at him like this, Seonghwa momentarily forgot how much he hated him.

“It’s Joong … Kim Hongjoong.”

Soobin nodded, “I know the one.”

“Well, I can’t … I did …” Seonghwa gasped again, feeling as if his heart was convulsing against the underside of his ribcage. Admitting this to Soobin was too humiliating. “We … argued and now I can’t find him and I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid.”

“Like …  _ us  _ stupid or normal people stupid?”

“ _ Us  _ stupid,” Seonghwa responded breathlessly. “Me stupid.”

It didn’t surprise him when Soobin’s eyes widened ever so slightly, “And you can’t find him?”

“Weren’t you listening? I can’t find him! I’ve looked everywhere!”

His chest was going to explode, his vision was starting to blur again and he knew he needed to get up and resume his search but he wasn’t confident in his legs’ ability to hold him vertical. 

Hongjoong could be in serious trouble and he was sitting on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“I bet there’s one place you forgot,” Soobin added cryptically, gaze dropping to where Seonghwa’s fingertips were aggressively attacking his scar.

Unaware that the action was even being performed, Seonghwa pulled his bloodied hand away from his wrist and winced as the pain of shredded skin finally ignited his nerves.

“What did I …” 

He couldn’t finish the question.

A warm rivulet of blood dribbled over the side of his arm and splashed onto the material of his jeans and just like that, what Soobin had been trying to tell him was suddenly crystal clear.

“Fuck …” he croaked. “Oh, shit … Oh, fuck … Okay.”

He scrambled to his feet, dizziness forgotten in his urgency, and took off down the corridor with Soobin at his heels as the both of them began their frantic sprint from the bathroom and across the quad towards the old gym.

The building loomed over them, the campus bordering on desolate now that most of the students had returned to the dorms, and Seonghwa couldn’t help the full body shudder that wracked his muscles.

His brain was assaulted with the memory of pain. So much fucking pain. 

He’d been crying that day. He’d cried until he’d made himself sick. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been crying, he just knew that it’d hurt. Everything inside of him had hurt.

Then there had been nothing for a while. Numb emptiness, every thought vanishing, all the agony dissipating to make way for the feeling of euphoria that replaced it. The light-headed giddiness as he lay there on the ground, waiting to see what would happen next.

Whether there was a heaven waiting for him on the other side or just plain oblivion. 

“Hey … stay focused!” Soobin snapped his fingers in front of his face but it still took a few moments for his senses to return to him.

He pushed open the doors.

This was his last hope. How long had it been since his class ended? Who knew how long Hongjoong had been alone, doing whatever it was that he was doing? What if he was too late? What if he turned a corner and saw exactly what Yunho and Mingi had seen when it had been him who was missing?

The changing room was quiet, silence punctuated by nothing but the drip of leaky pipes and the creaking of the door that groaned on its hinges. The tiled surfaces and distinct lack of windows made sure that the temperature was frigid enough to have goosebumps pricking his skin.

These walls held memories that no walls should hold.

“Do you see him?” Soobin whispered.

“No.”

Seonghwa started forwards, banging open stalls until they reached the bathroom area.

Pain. Peace. Euphoria.

It was hard to remain focused in here. The stale air was all too familiar and the stillness felt like an old friend. He’d never been able to recall exactly what had happened that day with all the blood loss and unconsciousness that had been going on, but now that he was back, the reminders were torturous.

“He’s here.”

Soobin’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a whip. There was panic in his tone and once Seonghwa caught up to him, he realised why.

Hongjoong.

He was sitting slumped against the wall, froth bubbling and spilling from his quivering lips. His skin was a sickly blue-greyish colour and his chest rose and fell every couple of too-many seconds. Some kind of convulsion had every one of his limbs twitching weakly, his eyelids were flickering and scarlet flakes tracked from both nostrils.

“Shit.” Soobin cursed.

Seonghwa had no idea what to do. His body wasn’t moving, wasn’t doing anything other than cementing itself to the spot and watching with petrified horror as Hongjoong’s convulsions came to a stop. His complexion was dominated by a lifeless grey and his lips stopped quivering.

“Do something!” Soobin screamed frantically. “Fuck! Do something!”

It seemed to be the kick in the back that Seonghwa needed in order to throw himself on his knees in front of the fallen boy, grabbing him up in his arms and heaving him against his chest as though he could just transfer life back into his body through the process of osmosis.

“Joong …” he cried, vision foggy through the tears. “Fuck, Joong … I’m here … Wake up …”

His breaths were raspy. Crackling.

“Soobin … Soobin, call someone!”

“No service. Try your phone.”

Seonghwa let his bag slide obediently from his shoulder and manoeuvred Hongjoong into his other arm so that he could reach the zipper. His hands were shaking so violently that his cell almost slipped from his grasp and all he could think was thank Hermes he had reception.

The numbers danced on the screen, or maybe it was the vibrations from his fingers but, either way, he hit the first number in his log and put the phone on speaker. 

Knowing he was going to need to shout when the call connected, he tossed the device to the ground and brought his hand back up to cradle Hongjoong’s face. 

“Come on … pick up …” he whispered, eyes erratically roving over the limp body in his arms.

Choking back a sob, he used his sleeve to swat at some of the foamy froth.

_ “Hwa, hey. I was just about to call you.” _

“Mingi!”

Mingi must have recognised the sheer brokenness in his voice because Seonghwa could hear him immediately yelling for Yunho, swiftly followed by the unmistakable sounds of multiple feet pounding against pavement and the steady gasps of exertion.

“Calm down,” Mingi panted. “Tell me where you are.”

“The old locker room …” He gave Hongjoong a shake. There was nothing. “I … Mingi, please … I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m coming, baby. Just stay with me.”

“It’s not me,” Seonghwa sobbed, legs already starting to go to sleep from where he was kneeling on the cool tiles. “It’s … Min, it’s Joong.”

“Fuck,” Mingi cursed before his voice got a little quieter, as though he were facing away from the phone to address somebody else. “Call San and tell him we found Joong.”

“Tell me what to do!” Seonghwa begged, bordering on hysterical. 

“I’ll go wait for them at the door,” Soobin offered awkwardly, but Seonghwa wasn’t even paying attention.

“Okay … Fuck, is he breathing?”

“He’s, like … gurgling.”

“Fuck.”

“MINGI!” he screamed, so loudly he thought his throat might tear. “Mingi, please!”

“Okay … Okay. Lay him on his back and clear his airway. Tell me when you’ve done that. I’m almost there.”

Seonghwa followed the instructions, quickly yet cautiously lowering his burden onto the ground while taking great care not to let his lolling head strike the cement. He pried his mouth open to see if anything was inside but he knew he’d find nothing.

He had no idea what Hongjoong had taken but he’d seen a patient steal a tray of pills off a nurse’s cart during his second week in the facility. The guy had downed seven different cups of prescription meds before the willowy woman had managed to get him away from the trolley.

Because the drugs were meant to act fast, it hadn’t taken more than a few seconds for his body to react pretty damn violently to the lethal cocktail. That was why Seonghwa knew what an overdose looked like.

Fuck, this was his fault. He should have listened. He should have listened when Hongjoong had begged him to stay.

“Done,” he shouted into the phone. “Now what?”

“Chest compressions. You remember how?”

“Y-Yeah … Okay.”

He locked his trembling hands together and threw his weight onto Hongjoong’s chest in a violently repetitive rhythm. He couldn’t remember how many he was supposed to do but Mingi, who must have still been running if the harshness of his breath was anything to go by, kept pitching in from the other end of the line.

“Rescue breathing, Hwa. Don’t forget the breathing.”

Seonghwa thrust Hongjoong’s head back and clamped his fingers down on his bloodied nose. He wasn’t a med student. He’d never done this before. He could only pray to Apollo that he was doing it right.

He blew into Hongjoong’s mouth, feeling his cheeks puff out and watching that skeletal chest arch with the influx of oxygen but as soon as he pulled away, the air rushed straight back out again. 

“Fuck … Mingi … Please, it’s not working.”

The doors banged open and suddenly Mingi and Yunho were filling the space.

Yunho’s beefy arms curled around Seonghwa’s chest and dragged him back across the floor, making way for Mingi to stoop over Hongjoong’s motionless body and check for a pulse. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Yunho whispered, guiding Seonghwa’s face into the crook of his neck and threading his fingers through his hair. “We have him. Calm down. The ambulance is on its way.” 

It was all Seonghwa needed to hear before he opened the metaphorical floodgates and allowed the tears to flow freely for the first time since Hongjoong had called his name in that hallway. He wasn’t even ashamed of the state he was in such was the intensity of his despair.

“It’s my fault.” The sob ripped through his throat but Yunho just pulled him closer. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not, Hwa. It really isn’t. Yeosang said Joong’s been struggling for a while. There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have listened.” 

He took the risk and glanced across the room to where Mingi’s biceps were flexing beneath his sweater as he continued the assault on Hongjoong’s ribcage. 

Seonghwa briefly wondered how long a person was supposed to perform CPR until it was deemed too late.

Footsteps thundered through the locker room and barely half a second later, San, Yeosang and Wooyoung were clamouring over the threshold. An anguish cry split the air but Seonghwa couldn’t see who it belonged to. 

“Fuck …” San gasped, sliding to his knees next to Mingi.

“You called someone, right?” Yeosang added, eyes wide in sheer panic and fingers locked around Wooyoung’s wrist as though he would just cease to exist without skin-on-skin contact.

“The ambulance is on its way.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want to hear a play-by-play of what was happening. A ball-by-ball of the pain that he had caused. He curled further into Yunho’s chest, making himself as small as humanly possible. If he could just get his friend to absorb him then he could stay safe and warm forever. 

“Shh, it’ll be fine.”

The boy continued to whisper assurances into Seonghwa’s hair but as the minutes ticked on and he was yet to hear Hongjoong’s voice – hell, at this point, he’d take a gasp or a wheeze – Seonghwa began to prepare himself for the worst. 

Technically, Hongjoong was already dead.

“Okay, shit,” Mingi grunted from beside them. “This is probably going to break something.” 

Seonghwa tried to turn his head to see what was going on but Yunho’s large hand cupped his cheek and held it firmly against the crook of his neck, preventing him from witnessing what Mingi was about to do. 

A second later, the distinct sound of a fist connecting with human flesh echoed off the tiled walls, promptly followed by a choked and rattling heave of air. 

“You fucking hit him?” Wooyoung squawked shrilly, his voice sounding like needles dragging through Seonghwa’s ears. “You monster!”

“Well, he’s breathing now, isn’t he?” Mingi yelled back, drowning out the sounds of Hongjoong’s hacking splutters. 

Everyone was screaming, shouting, talking over each other, but the only noise that Seonghwa could focus on were the tiny wheezes Hongjoong’s chest was making as his lungs struggled to replace the oxygen he’d lost. 

Without making the conscious decision to do so, Seonghwa synced their breathing. 

His airways protested the sudden lack of air and his vision turned hazy and his head pulsed and pounded but if it was enough for Hongjoong then it was enough for him. 

He didn’t deserve any more air than Hongjoong did so when that boy’s breaths stuttered, so did Seonghwa’s. When his chest slowed its motion, so did Seonghwa’s. And when Mingi had to bow over his body and blow air into his lungs again, Seonghwa momentarily stopped inhaling. 

He’d almost lost him. 

He’d almost lost Hongjoong and it didn’t sit right with him. 

Hongjoong had been an ass that day but he’d apologised. He’d apologised time and time again and Seonghwa had still treated him like shit. 

And the kiss. It was more than he knew he wanted from Hongjoong. It had felt like the beginning and the end and everything and nothing and life and death all rolled into one. 

Eros himself had put Hongjoong in Seonghwa’s path and he’d been stupid to deny that he was exactly what he wanted. 

He wanted Hongjoong. 

The realisation made him gasp, the air he’d been denying himself rushing back into his shrivelled chest and the corners of his vision fading back into focus. 

He was surprised to find himself no longer in Yunho’s arms. Instead, he was flying flat on his back on the cold tiled floor with an oxygen mask over his face and a blood pressure cuff painfully squeezing the meat of his bicep. 

“Welcome back,” the man above him smiled as he undid the cuff. An EMT. “You gave us quite a scare.” 

Still trying to figure out how long it had been since he’d passed out, Seonghwa permitted his eyes to roll around in his skull but he couldn’t see the person he was looking for. His head lolled to the side and only then did he catch sight of the other EMT fastening the straps on Hongjoong’s gurney. 

He had an oxygen mask, too, but he was unconscious and his face was still frighteningly pale. San was holding his limp hand, Mingi was muttering something to the medic and Wooyoung was combing his sweat-soaked fringe away from his closed eyes. 

“Is he ready to move?” Seonghwa’s EMT threw over his shoulder at his partner. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

They took Hongjoong away, Seonghwa’s gaze following them as they passed. Panic was bubbling inside of him but he could feel it struggling to make it to the surface. He didn’t want Hongjoong to leave his sight. 

The last time that had happened, he’d almost died. 

“Hey, I’m going to sit you up,” the EMT informed him. 

His neck felt too weak to hold his own head as he was levered upright, Yunho’s hands squeezing his shoulders as he propped him against his chest. The oxygen mask was gently removed from his face and he could only stare blankly at the spot where Hongjoong had lain. 

“Bring him in if he has trouble breathing again,” the paramedic said, probably addressing Yunho and whoever else was still in the room with him. “His heartrate’s back to normal and he doesn’t have a head injury so there’s no reason for us to take him in for treatment. Just keep an eye on him.”

Seonghwa felt arms around him and he relaxed into their familiar warmth, allowing his eyes to flutter closed once again. He tried to think of something else – someone else – but he couldn’t forget the revelation he’d just had. 

He wanted Hongjoong. 

\-----------------------

_La Cucaracha_ was stuck in his head. It was drilled into his memory and he couldn’t recall if he’d ever known the rest of the melody past the actual ‘la cucaracha’ bit or even if there was a song beyond that but not knowing didn’t seem to matter to his brain so the tune kept repeating itself.

It was infuriating really and he didn’t know what was more annoying: not knowing the rest of the song or just the song on its own.

“Goddamn it, Apollo …” he muttered as the song reverberated inside his skull like his own personal backing track. Honestly, what kind of theme music was  _ La Cucaracha _ ? 

He sighed, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut against the headache that threatened to burst his temples. He was aware that he had to leave soon. Visiting hours were almost over but Hongjoong hadn’t woken up once since he’d been here.

That was okay. Seonghwa wasn’t exactly ready to talk to him just yet anyway. He wouldn’t know what to say.

‘I’m sorry’? Is that what someone said to the person they’d almost murdered? And PCP? That’s what the toxicology report had said almost stopped Hongjoong’s heart. PCP? Actual PCP? Where the fuck would he find those kinds of drugs?

But Seonghwa had gotten to him in time. He’d started CPR and, with the help of a shot of naloxone upon the paramedic’s arrival, Hongjoong had survived his nearly successful suicide attempt.

That was almost three days ago and the boy’s parents were essentially paying for him to have a cosy stay on the ward until he could make it through the day without losing consciousness or feeling like he was going to throw up.

Seonghwa visited when he could.

If it were up to him, he would permanently set up camp on the floor but Jongho had made it clear that he didn’t think it was healthy for him to be staring at Hongjoong’s heart monitor all day. All Seonghwa had to say to that was, what the fuck did that brat know?

Hongjoong was still pale but his complexion had improved since yesterday and he no longer had the oxygen mask clamped over his nose and mouth, although he was still hooked up to the intravenous line. 

The nurses had told him that Hongjoong had been awake earlier but he tired easily and probably wouldn’t be back in school for at least another week. Truthfully, Seonghwa didn’t care if he never returned to campus. He was just happy he’d survived.

“Oh, hello.” He glanced up to see one of the nurses – a young man with circular glasses – walking into the room. “Visiting hours are ending.”

“I know. Sorry.”

Seonghwa’s joints cracked as he rose from his chair and stretched his sore limbs. He’d been so tired lately. Tired and sore. He just wanted to sleep until everything went away but he woke up and left the house for Hongjoong. He powered through lectures and lunch and a whole bombardment of questions for Hongjoong. Because only once he’d done all of that did Yunho and Mingi let him visit the hospital.

“It’s no problem.” The nurse dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “He asked if you came by.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m assuming you’re Seonghwa,” he laughed. “You look just as he described you. Like a sculpture.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up his cheeks, “He said that?”

“Yeah … The kid seems crazy about you when he’s coherent.” The nurse paused and the smile of endearment slid off his face. “When he’s not, it’s a different story.”

Seonghwa didn’t ask what that meant. The beeping of the heart monitor had begun to sound like  _ La Cucaracha  _ as well and, who knew, maybe the nurse would start singing it if he didn’t leave right this minute. At least, that way, he would find out what the words were.

“Well, tell him I was by … tell … tell him I’m sorry.”

He was embarrassed, ashamed and guilt-stricken but he needed Hongjoong to know and he still wasn’t ready to tell him himself. 

“I will,” the nurse smiled, and Seonghwa finally took his leave.

He was such a coward. He had to speak to Hongjoong at some point. He had to atone for what he’d almost caused and he needed to do it before his conscience devoured him alive. 


	7. In Peaceful Oblivion

It was a typical Friday evening and when Seonghwa returned to his dorm, Mingi and Yunho were preparing to head off to a party. A party that Seonghwa had vehemently refused to attend. After drawing straws, Jongho was assigned the role of ‘get-everyone-home-safe person’, much to his dismay.

It would be the first time in almost two months that Seonghwa was allowed a moment alone and the prospect both pleased and terrified him. He was so tired these days that he was sure he’d probably just fall asleep but he also knew that was definitely not how his brain worked and he would have no one to stop him from doing something dumb.

“Knock, knock, bitches!” Wooyoung screeched as he banged through the door, wearing a pair of jeans that may – it was very likely, knowing Wooyoung – have been splattered on with paint and a shirt that seemed very opposed to the idea of just staying on his body. “We have some partying to do.”

“Keep it down, babe,” San scolded, but he pulled his boyfriend in for a quick kiss on the lips and a playful slap on the butt nonetheless.

His outfit was just as casual as it always was: black tee tucked into cargo pants. But the military-style boots and the ever-present patch of white hair in the centre of his fringe gave him an edgy and admittedly kind of hot appearance. 

“I can’t believe I let you all talk me into this,” Jongho sighed as he finished his fourth iced Americano of the evening and still looked like he wanted another one.

He didn’t seem to know how to dress for these things. Black jeans and a black turtle neck was a staple of his. In fact, he wore them so often that for the first month, Seonghwa had stared at him every morning at the breakfast table, trying to figure out what was wrong with his neck that he’d be trying to hide it so religiously.

Seonghwa felt bad for him but there was no way in Hades that he was going to that party.

“Just call me if you need help and Yeosang will be there,” he said, knowing full well that nothing short of an actual death was going to get him to go over there. Death, or maybe if they did actually need him.

“Yeosang will probably be off somewhere trying to get Mingi to  _ do  _ him,” Jongho shuddered in response.

Wooyoung cackled, “Did you just say ‘do’ him? What are we, five?” 

“Whatever. I don’t want to think about my brother doing the dirty deed with my roommate.”

“It’s called sex, sweetie,” Wooyoung corrected with an innocent bat of his eyelashes.

“Don’t say it,” Jongho whined, burying his face in his hands as though trying to shut out the psychological torture he knew was hurtling towards him at the speed of a train. 

“They aren’t Ken dolls,” Wooyoung continued mercilessly, clearly oblivious to Jongho’s slightly greenish complexion. “There’s anatomy down there and they’ve gotta use it. San and I do it all the time.”

“I’m gonna throw up!” Jongho declared, diving for the door and shouldering past a newly arrived Yeosang in his desperation to escape.

“Hey, are we ready?” Yeosang asked the room at large.

He was wearing another of his white-sweater-and-blue-jeans combo with a flower in his hair and a squirming Lord Boop held tightly in his arms. Lord Boop, as always, was wearing socks. Fluorescent green this time.

“Is the cat going?” San prodded, prompting Yeosang to level him with a haughty glare.

“Lord Boop is invited to all major gatherings.”

“Whatever, as long as he doesn’t run away again.”

“Is that Yeosang?” came Mingi’s gleeful shout from the bedroom and Yeosang giggled as he set Lord Boop down on the floor. 

Mingi emerged into the admittedly very crowded dorm, wearing one of his signature long coats with a thin white tshirt beneath, and immediately his eyes honed in on Yeosang. If Seonghwa wasn’t so exhausted, he would have made a quip at the sheer adoration in the gaze they shared with one another.

It was sickeningly sweet.

“You look nice,” Mingi muttered, reaching up self-consciously to rub the back of his neck.

He was already blushing and Yeosang seemed to find the sight very amusing if the subtle smirk on his face was anything to go by. Stepping over Lord Boop, he sauntered his way across the room until he and Mingi were standing right in front of each other.

“I know,” he whispered before elevating himself up onto his tiptoes and kissing the tip of Mingi’s nose.

“Oh my God …” Wooyoung groaned with a roll of his eyes and, in spite of everything, Seonghwa found himself laughing along with everyone else at the new couples’ expense.

At least they were happy. At least they had the comfort of one another’s presence and a bright future ahead of them in their relationship. At least they weren’t refusing to admit to themselves that they were head over heels in love or neglecting each other to the point where one of them felt the need to snort a handful of PCP.

At least neither of them was as bone-headed and oblivious as Seonghwa was.

The door opened one last time and Yunho stuck his head into the room, regarding each and every one of its occupants with a deep-seated suspicion that was evident in the narrowing of his eyes and the scrunch of his brows.

“What did you monsters do to Jongho?” he asked, clearly addressing San and Wooyoung. “He’s curled up on the steps outside, rocking back and forth and mumbling something about wishing he was an only child.”

There was a smattering of chuckles as everybody relished in the youngest’s suffering before Yeosang scooped Lord Boop up into his arms with a rallying address of, “Let’s get going then.”

One by one, they traipsed out of the room, calling nonchalant goodbyes to Seonghwa over their shoulders until the only person who remained was Yunho.

“I’ve got my phone on,” he said, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Mingi won’t so, if something happens or if you need anything, you call me, okay? And if I don’t pick up, call Jongho.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seonghwa dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand. “I got it. I’m not going to cease to exist as soon as you leave me here alone.”

Yunho still looked unsure – Yunho always looked unsure when it came to situations like these – but at last he relented and, after making Seonghwa promise not to leave the apartment before they returned, he pulled the door closed and followed the others towards a night of drinking and dancing and not having to worry about their mentally deranged friend. 

Seonghwa yawned, rubbed his eyes and retired to his bedroom where he belly-flopped onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow with a low groan.

If it was possible to sleep for a week, he would quite happily burrow into the blankets and never emerge, but then he wouldn’t be able to visit Hongjoong and, although he still didn’t necessarily want to do any talking, that was a prospect he wasn’t prepared to face.

He was pathetic. Selfish, too. Hongjoong had tried to end his own life because of him and he wasn’t man enough to even look him in the eye. If Hongjoong had woken up at any point during Seonghwa’s visit, he probably would have run straight out of the room. That was how pathetic he was.

Hongjoong deserved better. This was why Seonghwa hadn’t wanted to take that kiss any further in the first place. He was just going to hurt him, abandon him, drive him to make stupid and irrational decisions that could potentially end in fatality.

If Hongjoong really had died that day, Seonghwa would never have been able to forgive himself. Never.

Somebody banged on the door and the dorm’s only remaining occupant wanted to slam his head against the wall because why did somebody have to bother him when he was just trying to get some goddamn sleep for the first time in days?

It was probably someone looking for Mingi, Yunho or Jongho and, if that was the case, they could go fuck themselves. Seonghwa wouldn’t have gotten up off this bed if the building was on fire. So long as he ignored them, they would go away.

But barely five seconds later, there was another knock and this one was louder, longer and more impatient. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn’t prepared to give up anytime soon and Seonghwa wanted to stab them in the face.

The third round of hammering was what finally had him rolling off his mattress, a string of very obscene swear words slipping free of his lips as he swept his fringe out of his eyes and padded across the dorm.

The doorknob clicked beneath his fingers and he put on his best expression of irritation before tugging it open.

“What the fuck do you --?”

His words froze in his throat.

He wasn’t going to be getting to sleep anytime soon.

“Oh,” Hongjoong mumbled, swaying slightly on the spot as his glazed eyes steadily made their way up to Seonghwa’s face. “Good. I was worried you weren’t home.”

He fell forwards and Seonghwa barely got his arms up in time to catch him as their bodies slammed together. The smell of sterilised blankets and cleaning supplies clung to Hongjoong’s clothes. 

He must have discharged himself from the hospital against medical advice if he hadn’t just escaped.

“Hongjoong …” Seonghwa gasped, dragging the boy’s stumbling feet over the threshold and kicking the door closed behind him. “Hongjoong, what the fuck are you doing here?”

He was unsteady, wavering, barely taking his own weight. Seonghwa was afraid to let go of him in case he collapsed right there and then so, instead, he slipped an arm around his waist and half carried, half-dragged him over to the couch.

Hongjoong thudded onto the cushions like a sack of potatoes, his energy clearly spent. Seonghwa crouched in front of him with his hands on the boy’s knees, squeezing tightly enough to get his attention.

“Hongjoong, you should still be in the hospital.”

“I wanted to see you,” Hongjoong slurred, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was definitely still dealing with the after-effects of whatever drug the nurses had given him before his unauthorised departure. “They … They told me you came and they told me w-what you said and I needed to tell you that it wasn’t your f-fault.”

Apparently, this kid was determined to make Seonghwa’s existence as wrought with guilt as possible. Not only had he played a key part in Hongjoong’s attempt but now he was also the reason the lunatic had run away from the hospital where he so clearly needed to be.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Seonghwa told him, looking around for any sign of his phone. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He spotted it on the table and straightened up, knees popping loudly, but before he could take even a single step, Hongjoong’s hand shot out with a speed he shouldn’t have possessed in his current state and latched onto his wrist.

“No …” he whispered, and there was fear in his eyes. Real fear. “Please. Please … just stay.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa conceded, sinking back down to his knees and putting his hand over Hongjoong’s. “Okay. I’m staying. Look at me. I’m staying right here.”

He wasn’t walking away from him again. He wasn’t turning his back on him again. If Hongjoong needed him to stay then he wouldn’t move another muscle for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t put Hongjoong in danger again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the boy repeated, fingers still harbouring a bruising grip on Seonghwa’s wrist. “I need you to know that. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t because of you. I didn’t … I didn’t do that because of you.”

Seonghwa blinked, “Then why did you do it?”

There was a long, long pause in which Hongjoong just stared at him like a blank slate. The cogs inside his head were almost audible, whirring away as they desperately tried to process the question they had just been asked and the answer that was most appropriate to give.

Seonghwa knew the thought process. He’d spent months regurgitating the same rehearsed statements, robotically repeating the answers he knew would get him what he wanted: out of the hospital and back into civilian life.

He hoped that Hongjoong wasn’t as well practised as he was.

“It was an accident.”

Seonghwa felt the breath rushing through his nose as his head dropped to hang between his shoulders. It was always an accident. It was the go-to excuse whenever something like this happened.

_ It was an accident. I didn’t mean to. I was just feeling shitty and I made a stupid decision. I don’t really want to kill myself. I promise. Please don’t put me in the nuthouse. _

“Hongjoong …”

“No, it was,” Hongjoong insisted, in danger of crushing Seonghwa’s wrist with how tightly he was squeezing. “I was … I was just trying to get high and I took too much. That’s all that happened.”

Was this how everybody else had felt when Seonghwa had said the same things? He’d sworn the attempt hadn’t been intentional until he was blue in the face but no one had ever nodded their head and told him they knew he was telling the truth. No one had ever bothered to listen. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Hongjoong blanched, “Why not? It happens, okay? You … You did it. Yours was an accident. Well, so was mine! I … I fucked up, okay? But I wasn’t trying to die. That … I wasn’t trying to die, Seonghwa! You know that, right?”

He was getting increasingly desperate, shuffling forwards in his seat as his free hand found its way up onto Seonghwa’s shoulder and curled in the material of his sweater. His breathing was worryingly fast and he was sweating bullets.

“Okay, Hongjoong.” He needed to get him to calm down before he had a heart attack. “I know you weren’t. I believe you. It’s okay. Just take deep breaths. Breathe with me, Hongjoong. Come on.”

But he couldn’t meet his eye. He couldn’t bear the thought of facing him while he lied to him. He knew for a fact that what Hongjoong had done that day had been 100% intentional. He may have regretted it as soon as it happened but it most certainly hadn’t been an accident.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hongjoong said yet again. He sounded like a broken record but at least his breathing was slowing back down. “You know that, don’t you? You’re not blaming yourself? Because it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Hongjoong …” He couldn’t listen to this. “Please, stop.”

“No. I’m the one who messed up, okay? I never should have cornered you in that bathroom, I never should have kissed you, I never should have said any of those things. It was my fault. It was all my fault and you had nothing to do …”

“I had everything to do with it,” Seonghwa snapped before he could stop himself.

Hongjoong spluttered into silence, his hands falling into his lap and his lips parting in shock. Now that Seonghwa was looking at him, he was finding it difficult to stop. His throat was burning, his chest was aching and the back of his eyes felt strangely hot.

“I walked away from you,” he continued in a whisper. “You begged me to stay and I walked away from you. I wouldn’t talk to you, I ignored you, I treated you like shit and then I walked away from you. So how can you say that I didn’t play a part in what you did to yourself?”

He dropped his gaze to his hands, realising for the first time that he’d started to pick at his scar and the scabs that surrounded it. If Mingi or Yunho were here, they’d be telling him to stop but Hongjoong didn’t. He was watching him do it and he didn’t say anything.

It was almost like he knew that Seonghwa needed to do this – to inflict pain upon his own body – in order to calm himself down. He was letting him continue even though he knew it was harmful because he could tell that it was the only way Seonghwa could quiet the monsters in his head.

And then he said the most surprising, the most inappropriate and yet the best thing Seonghwa had ever heard.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

It was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. There was no good that could come from indulging whatever desires were burning in the pits of their stomachs. They were both too broken, too fragile, to do anything but harm to one another and Seonghwa really should shut this down before it could go any further.

But what came out of his mouth wasn’t a rational refusal. It wasn’t rational at all.

“Then why don’t you?”

He couldn’t resist this boy. He actually literally physically couldn’t resist him. He was sitting there, so tiny in his oversized hoodie with his hair ever so slightly damp with perspiration, hands hidden in his sweater paws, eyes as beautiful as they’d always been and Seonghwa couldn’t resist him.

“If I do …” he croaked, gaze honing in on Seonghwa’s lips. “… are you going to freak out? Are you going to run away and avoid me like the plague?”

“No.” 

He wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. There was no way he could know how his fucked-up brain would react to an escalation in their situation, but he would have said anything – anything in the world – to get Hongjoong to just kiss him. 

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

And then it was happening. Soft, gentle, nervous and bewitching. Just one touch and Seonghwa’s skin was on fire. One hand moving to cup the back of his head and he was already in too deep, pushing himself higher up on his knees so he could get a better angle to deepen the kiss.

It was wrong. His mind was screaming it at him.  _ Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!  _ But he couldn’t have stopped if someone was holding a gun to his head.

He didn’t just want Hongjoong’s body beneath his fingertips. He  _ needed  _ it. He needed it like he needed air to breathe. He slid one hand up to the boy’s mid-thigh and wrapped another around his waist in order to pull him closer and it just felt so  _ right. _

It felt like that huge gaping chasm of emptiness that was forever hollowing out his chest had just been filled.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hwa,” Hongjoong murmured as they finally drew apart, his hands reaching out to cup Seonghwa’s face. “So don’t blame yourself, okay? Let’s just forget it ever happened. This is the only thing that matters, right? Just you and me. We don’t need to think about anything else right now. Just you and me.”

“Just you and me,” Seonghwa echoed, as though trying to convince himself. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Me, too.”

Seonghwa tried to reel him in closer, needing to feel the warmth of his body, but Hongjoong let out a hiss of pain and he instantly recoiled to see the boy clutching at his chest with his face twisted in discomfort.

“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa babbled in a panic, terrified that his touch had once again destroyed the one good thing he’d ever had. “You’re in pain? You need to get back to the hospital. You’re still sick.”

“No,” Hongjoong dismissed, one of his hands still hooked around the back of Seonghwa’s neck, keeping him on his knees in front of the couch. “I’m fine. Just a couple of bruised ribs from the CPR. I’m fine.”

The fact that he thought an explanation like that would convince anyone that he was quote-unquote “fine” was a little worrying but Seonghwa respected his desire not to return to the hospital. If their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to go back there either.

Not when he could sleep here in the arms of someone beautiful.

“You should lie down,” Seonghwa told him, gently coaxing the weary body into a horizontal position against the sofa cushions. “You must be tired.”

Hongjoong smiled at him. It wasn’t a full smile, more of a fond little twitch, but it illuminated his entire face. His hand still hadn’t moved from Seonghwa’s hair, fingers now carding through the stiffly dyed strands and scratching the back of his scalp.

“You okay?” he rasped, and Seonghwa chuckled.

“ _ You’re  _ asking  _ me  _ if I’m okay?”

“Yes. I want to know. I care.”

Seonghwa’s heart swelled to three times its original size, “Yes. I’m okay.”

“You’re not freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“If I fall asleep right now, you’ll stay here with me?”

“I’ll stay here with you.”

There was nowhere else he’d rather be. So long as he was in his sights, he knew Hongjoong was safe. He wasn’t hurting himself, he wasn’t alone or afraid or wondering what the world would be like if he just left it behind. So long as they were together, Hongjoong was okay, and that was all Seonghwa cared about.

“Kiss me one more time.”

“No,” Seonghwa smirked playfully, reaching out so he could take the folded up rug and spread it over the body on the couch. “You’re hurt.”

“I know,” Hongjoong said with an exaggerated expression of agony. “It’s so painful. I need a kiss to help me feel better.”

He was amazing. He was so, so, so amazing. Adorable, strong, stunning. Just … amazing. Seonghwa couldn’t believe he’d ever let him slip through his fingers in the first place. He knew for sure he wouldn’t be doing that again.

He leaned forwards and pressed his mouth to Hongjoong’s and when he drew away, that exaggerated expression of agony had been replaced with euphoric bliss.

“See?” Hongjoong whispered, his eyelids already starting to droop from the fatigue of the day’s activities. “All better now.”

He fell asleep barely two minutes later with Seonghwa slumped against the couch on the floor beside him, head resting on his arm and hand gently fingering the thick blonde locks of his patient’s hair as he watched him breathe in peaceful oblivion with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!


	8. Bad Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// Love

The exhaustion that had lingered in Seonghwa’s bones for the past few days was completely gone when he opened his eyes the next morning. He lay still for a few moments, revelling in the warmth of his blankets and the mere fact that it was Saturday.

He didn’t have any classes. No obligations. And with any luck, Mingi and Yunho would be too hung over to stop him from spending the day at the hospital with Hongjoong.

He reached out a hand to grab his phone and hissed as the sudden assault of light practically fried his retinas. He would have flinched away from it but the weight on his chest stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What …?”

His first thought was that either Mingi or Yunho had flopped their drunken bodies on top of him for warmth at some point during the night but when he looked down, he was greeted by a tuft of white hair and the outline of a tiny pointed nose.

“Joong?” he whispered, and the sleeping lump on his chest wriggled a little as it snuggled deeper into the blankets.

The previous night was starting to reappear in fragments and, holy Euros, Hongjoong was _here._ Hongjoong was asleep on his chest in his arms, safe and warm, and he wasn’t mad at Seonghwa. He’d actually apologised. Again.

“Joong?”

This time, Hongjoong extended one clumsy arm and felt around Seonghwa’s face until he found his mouth, covered his lips with his pudgy little fingers and mumbling a weak and exhausted, “Quiet.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but chuckle. Hongjoong was cute. Cute and small and his. All his, and no one else’s. He heaved the tiny man up a little higher on his chest until his face was resting in the crook of his neck and hugged him tighter when Hongjoong mumbled in contentment.

“You’re mine,” Seonghwa whispered into the top of his teddy bear’s head.

He didn’t think too much on where the sudden possessiveness had come from but he didn’t have to address it if no one else had heard him. He could call Hongjoong his all he wanted and nobody had the power to stop him.

Allowing his eyes to flutter closed, he fully intended on sleeping a little longer with Hongjoong in his arms when a shrill scream pierced the early – _too early –_ morning air.

“Not in the fucking kitchen! No! Bad San! Bad … Get off him!”

There was a brief scuffle, then the round of retching and the splattering noise of vomit hitting the tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Oh, God …” Hongjoong murmured sleepily. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Should we just sneak out the back?” Seonghwa asked him, feeling far too tired to deal with his crackhead friends when he was so comfortable right here, right now.

“I just made that!” Jongho was still screaming. “Get your own coffee!”

Hongjoong let out a resigned huff, “Maybe you should go and save the kid.”

He tried to roll off his human pillow but Seonghwa tightened his grip and wouldn’t let go until he’d peppered his face with enough butterfly kisses to reduce the boy to a sleepy and giggly mess. Only then did he allow him to burrow back under the covers while he himself got up to unleash the wrath of Hera onto the lunatics.

He was greeted by the sight of San passed out next to a puddle of his own vomit on the kitchen floor with Lord Boop fast asleep on his back. Jongho was fighting off Wooyoung, who was apparently after his coffee, and Yunho seemed to have been sexiled to the couch so Yeosang and Mingi could take the other bedroom. His body was far too long to fit on the cushions and so his legs were contorted awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

Wooyoung paused abruptly, causing Jongho to lose his balance and fall forwards, smashing his face on the tiled floor.

“Ow! Ow, fuck …” 

“God, it’s too early for this,” Hongjoong mumbled as he emerged from the bedroom, a balled up fist rubbing harshly at his eyes.

At some point, whoever had found the two of them on the couch and decided to carry them to bed had changed Hongjoong out of his sweat-soaked hoodie and into one of Seonghwa’s T-Shirts. The garment was draped over him like a dress, the sleeves falling past his elbows and the hem reaching almost to his knees.

Seonghwa had to resist the urge to sweep him up in his arms and carry him back to bed for more cuddles.

“Joongie!” Wooyoung cried, running full speed to tackle Hongjoong into a hug. “I thought you weren’t getting out for another week!”

“I discharged myself,” Hongjoong smiled, ruffling the kid’s already-messy hair. “I couldn’t leave Hwa to deal with all of you on his own now, could I?” 

He caught Seonghwa’s eye over Wooyoung’s shoulder and they shared a smirk that had Seonghwa’s gut feeling all warm and fuzzy to the point where he had to look away, instead focusing his attention on San’s unconscious body on the floor.

“Should we wake him?”

“Give him a moment. It’s normal.”

It certainly didn’t look normal but Seonghwa wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to San’s drinking habits and hangover behaviours.

“Hwa?” Jongho called, picking himself up off the ground and dusting his hands on his sweats. “It’s almost time for your dose. Yunho and Mingi are gonna be asleep for a while longer so I thought I’d remind you.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa blushed furiously.

It wasn’t like his illness wasn’t common knowledge. Everybody knew he was pretty heavily medicated but being sent like a child to take it was a little embarrassing and Jongho must have sensed his discomfort because he winced in sudden realisation, mouthing a quick _“sorry”_ before hobbling off to the bathroom.

“You still look a little peaky,” Wooyoung mumbled as he took Hongjoong by the shoulders and surveyed him sceptically.

“I’m fine. A little dizzy. That’s all.”

Wooyoung gave a solemn nod, “You would be. PCP, man … When you asked for Han’s new number, I had no clue that’s what you were after.” 

Hongjoong shrugged uncomfortably, nibbling on his lip and religiously avoiding Wooyoung’s scrutinising gaze as he mumbled a croaky, “It was an accident.”

His big sparkly eyes looked so sad when he saw Wooyoung bobbing his head, clearly having not believed a word he’d said.

“Come on, Joongie,” Seonghwa interjected. “You can sit with me while I gather my … erm … stuff.”

Calling them ‘meds’ sounded wrong. Calling them ‘drugs’ felt worse and he never took them in front of other people but he wanted to get Hongjoong away from Wooyoung so that the broken look on his face would vanish.

“Sure.”

They returned to the bedroom where the medication bottles were lined up on the window sill and Seonghwa tried to ignore the feeling of Hongjoong’s gaze on his back as he shook his dosages into his palm.

“Haloperidol,” Hongjoong read one of the labels. “What’s that for?”

Seonghwa answered almost robotically, “To control the violent outbursts.”

His therapist had gone through all of this with him so that he would know what he was taking but even though he understood they all played a very vital role in keeping him sane and safe to be around others, he still hated them with all his heart.

“And this one?”

“Fluxoxetine,” Seonghwa reported blankly. “It’s an anti-depressant. I don’t take much of that since this one works better.”

He held up the bottle that was in his hand and Hongjoong took it so he could read the label, “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but sometimes they still don’t work out very well. I have to take anti-anxiety meds during high stress periods and then there’s the insomnia …” he trailed off, suddenly hyper aware of how much he was rambling. “This feels stupid. I feel stupid talking about it.”

“No, don’t,” Hongjoong protested, placing one of his tiny hands on Seonghwa’s chest. “It’s fine. I want to know. My mum used to drink for her insomnia. I guess that helped her.”

“I can’t do much drinking with the pills.”

“Oh, it’s not like real drinking. It’s usually just a glass of wine.” He snapped his fingers. “It knocks her right out.”

“Well, I guess it’s something I can look into later. For now, sleeping with you here seems to help a lot.”

Seonghwa threw back his head and swallowed all his pills in one go, washing them down with a glass of water before he settled himself on the bed beside Hongjoong, their bodies pressed right up against each other, almost unconsciously seeking one another.

“I help?”

Seonghwa nodded. Then he sighed.

“It’s kinda overwhelming. I’m not sure how to explain everything that’s happening but my brain is all messed up and it terrifies me and this … _you …_ it’s new. I’m … don’t take this the wrong way but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Hwa, no …” Hongjoong whined. “We talked about this.”

“I know, but I’m still getting used to the idea.”

He tried to smile but when Hongjoong pressed his lips together in a failed attempt not to giggle, he knew it must have resembled more of a grimace than a grin. 

“I love your smile.”

Seonghwa knew exactly what his smile looked like. Yunho had an entire folder on his phone with pictures of him either appearing pained or like he was descended from some sort of very friendly and socially awkward lizard. But Hongjoong didn’t seem to mind as he leaned over with a sigh and put his head in Seonghwa’s lap.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Hey.”

They both glanced up to see Yeosang and Lord Boop – even though the cat was always fighting him, he didn’t ever seem to leave his side – standing in the doorway, watching them.

“What’s up, Sangie?” Hongjoong mumbled, still with his head pillowed on Seonghwa’s thigh.

“Mingi said I should ask Hwa if he’s still vegan before I order a food service.”

“Of course, I’m still vegan,” Seonghwa defended with a roll of his eyes. “Lord Pan would have my head if I gave up on him now.”

Yeosang looked thoroughly confused at that particular declaration and left the room promptly, the bewildered expression on his face drawing another sleepy chuckle from Hongjoong’s throat.

“You’re vegan?”

His laugh felt like sunshine on a cloudy day. It was a boyish sound that made Seonghwa’s chest bloom with warmth. He’d much rather have that playing on a loop in his head instead of _La Cucaracha._ And now that blasted tune was starting up again and he groaned in irritation.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You groaned.”

“Yeah … It’s just that I thought my theme music would be different. Like … I don’t know … brassy or bass heavy. I’d even settle for _Ring Ding Dong_ or _Bring The Boys Out._ ”

If Hongjoong was confused, he didn’t show it. 

“You seem more of a _Mirotic_ guy to me. You’re so strange, Hwa.”

Seonghwa withered in humiliation.

“But I like it.” 

Hongjoong dozed off within the next few minutes, still lying across the bed with his head pillowed in Seonghwa’s lap. He looked so peaceful in sleep, one hand squeezed between his thighs to keep it warm and the other resting just in front of his face.

If he weren’t still a little pale, it would have been impossible to believe that he’d tried to end his own life barely a week ago. He was flawed, probably a little more than most people, but Seonghwa didn’t care. He was flawed, too. They could be flawed together.

Drug addiction, debilitating mental illness … None of that mattered. They were connected by their distinct lack of regard for life and if Hongjoong could love a manic depressive then Seonghwa could love a junkie.

Love.

He knew the word and its definition. He knew that it was an emotion he’d felt before and still felt today. He loved his mother. His father. But that was simply an instinct that had been buried in him since birth. He’d never made the conscious decision to let them into his heart. They’d just always been there.

He loved Yunho and Mingi but, again, he’d known them for so long that it was impossible now to distinguish when they’d stopped being his friends and had started being more like his brothers.

He wasn’t sure what love felt like, and it was the same for other emotions, too. He could laugh but he was never truly happy. He could cry but he was never really able to figure out why. The only feeling he was capable of was anger but even then its source was invisible.

Every day was like a mirage of the one before it, differing here and there but identical in every other way. He got up, he took his pills, he ate breakfast. If it was a weekday, he went to class. If it was a weekend, he studied. He never went out, he never did anything that wasn’t explicitly stated in his metaphorical schedule. 

He didn’t even feel alive anymore.

Being with Hongjoong last night, however … That was different. He’d felt something then. No, he’d felt more than something. He’d felt _everything._ Everything he’d ever wanted to feel and everything he would need to feel for the rest of his life.

But it was shrouded, as were most things, by the medicated haze that settled over his mind. His pills kept him docile and dumb – healthy, as Mingi would insist – and in doing so, they prevented him from experiencing the things that made life worth living.

They made him safe to be around. They made it possible for him to go to school and interact with his friends without trying to throw himself out of a window or punch somebody in the face. He wouldn’t make it a day without them and yet a day wasn’t worth making with them.

He’d never really minded before. He could get by. He had Mingi and Yunho. He didn’t need to feel every drop of sunlight or every shooting star. He was fine without getting to enjoy the little things because he couldn’t remember what it felt like to do so.

But now … Now he wanted those little things. Hongjoong’s voice, his laugh, his smile, his kisses. He wanted to feel every last bit to its fullest extent and more. He wanted a life with Hongjoong, next to Hongjoong, _loving_ Hongjoong, and yet that couldn’t happen. Not really.

Not so long as he was taking those pills. 

There was a soft knock on the door and Yunho poked his head into the room, taking one look at Hongjoong’s sleeping form cradled in Seonghwa’s lap and twisting his face into an expression that seemed to be somewhere in between pity and sadness.

“You both need to come and eat some breakfast.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa nodded, absently combing Hongjoong’s fringe behind his ear. “Just give me a second.”

He would stay forever like this if it was an option. To let Hongjoong rest, to keep him away from the pain that had caused him to take those drugs and try to leave the world, to give him a few more moments of sorrowless existence.

“Hwa …” Yunho whispered, shuffling into the room and quietly closing the door behind him. “Are the two of you … Did you …?”

He gestured meagrely between the two boys on the bed, and Seonghwa understood.

“We didn’t sleep together or anything if that’s what you were going to ask, but we did kiss and we are together and that’s the way I want it to stay.”

That expression was back on Yunho’s face: the sad kind of pitying grimace that Seonghwa couldn’t quite identify. Maybe it was directed at him, maybe it was directed at Hongjoong and maybe it was neither but, whatever the reason, he didn’t like it.

“Hwa,” Yunho repeated, eyeing Hongjoong carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to wake up. “You’re not well. And neither is he. He should still be in the hospital, for God’s sake.”

Seonghwa should have known this was coming. Of course, his friends wouldn’t support his happiness. They wanted to keep him isolated and broken so that they could look after him and feel like they were doing their bit for humanity.

Yunho knelt down in front of him, stooping low so that he could catch Seonghwa’s eye and reaching out to take hold of the hand that wasn’t still stroking Hongjoong’s hair.

“I’m not dictating who you can and can’t be with,” he said. “God knows I want you to have this, but maybe it’s too soon. Right now might not be the right time for either of you to be in a relationship. Can’t you wait a little? Just until you’re both in a more stable headspace?”

Somewhere deep inside Seonghwa’s head, he knew that what Yunho was saying made sense but he didn’t want to hear it. So what if he and Hongjoong were a little screwed up? Surely that worked better than just one of them being so?

They understood each other and so they could help each other in the ways that their friends couldn’t.

“Hwa, please …”

Seonghwa pulled his hand out of Yunho’s grasp and instead bent down to press his lips against Hongjoong’s temple, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze to rouse him from his peaceful slumbering. The soft hum he got in response was the only indication that he’d succeeded.

“Time to go eat,” he murmured in the boy’s ear, ignoring the huff of resigned frustration that Yunho let out as he left the room.

Hongjoong opened his eyes and rolled over slightly so he could get a good look at Seonghwa’s face. His right cheek was a little red from where it had rubbed against his makeshift pillow and his eyelids were swollen from sleep.

He was breath-taking. Seonghwa wouldn’t have given him up for the world.

“Come on then,” he coaxed, levering the boy off his lap and leading him out into the kitchen by the hand. 


	9. Our Poetic Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Anonymous Introvert. If there is any issue with what I'm about to say, you take it up with me and not MinYun. We've updated a day early because there's something that I need to bring your attention to.  
> I live in the UK and right now, our government are basically saying 'no' to trans rights. In order to identify as your own gender, you have to be diagnosed with gender dysphoria by two separate doctors, undergo a thorough psychiatric evaluation (mentally ill trans people are STILL trans people) and stand up in front of a panel just to "prove" that you're trans. Then you have to wait two years before you can legally change your gender. Activists have been fighting these legislations for months now. The government held a survey and despite 70% of people voting to abolish this ridiculous rule, they won't. Imagine being forced to live in the wrong body for two years even after a doctor has acknowledged your struggle. The suicide rate in the trans community is already so high. It can't be any higher. 
> 
> https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/327108
> 
> If you aren't British then you cannot sign this petition but you can help spread awareness. Please support the hashtag #uktransrights on all social media platforms and encourage UK citizens to add their signatures. Thank you

When Monday rolled around, Seonghwa was forced out of the little protective cocoon that the eight of them had managed to build around themselves in the dorm room. 

Hongjoong still couldn’t stay conscious for more than ten minutes at a time but he was awake for about an hour the previous night so his prognosis seemed to be improving and it wasn’t like anybody was in any particular hurry to send him back to the hospital after witnessing the way his father had screamed at him down the phone.

Seonghwa hadn’t expected to enjoy the company as much as he did, but cooking with Wooyoung and San had been fun and the DIY face masks he’d made with Yeosang had left his skin feeling like butter. Then he, Yunho and Mingi had spent a lengthy part of the evening playing video games just like they used to when they were kids.

San had somehow convinced Jongho to try weed and after the boy had finished hacking up a lung, he’d spent the rest of the night scouring the kitchen for snacks. Hongjoong had fluctuated between laughing scandalously at their antics and being so fast asleep that even Wooyoung’s screaming couldn’t wake him. 

It was the best Seonghwa had felt in months but then Monday morning brought forth its usual dose of shit and his body just wasn’t having it. Fuck, even his brain wasn’t having it.

“Hwa, wake up,” Jongho whispered from across the room. “You have a nine o’clock.”

For the first time in a while, Seonghwa was the one who just couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

He’d almost never gotten a full night of sleep so he usually awoke pretty easily in the morning. He was almost always the one trying to pry Mingi out of bed and get Yunho to actually shower before a class but today his body didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

It was heavy and his eyelids felt swollen, like they were made of lead. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his temples pulsed cruelly with an excruciatingly brutal headache.

He groaned and rolled over, his face instantly making contact with somebody’s chest. Hongjoong wasted no time in threading his fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

His body was pretzeled into a ball, his knees poking painfully at Seonghwa’s side and his toes cold against Seonghwa’s stomach, and yet neither of them had ever been more comfortable. Seonghwa never wanted to move again. He even sent a silent prayer up to Lord Morpheus, begging to be trapped in the dream realm for as long as he saw fit.

“Must be a bad morning,” he heard Mingi whisper from the doorway. “I’m never awake before him.”

“Should we let him sleep?” came Yunho’s worried inquiry, followed quickly by a tut of scepticism from Jongho.

“He hasn’t attended enough of these classes for the semester. Let’s see how serious it is first.”

There was the creaking of bed springs and a groan as the youngest rose from his blanketed chrysalis and Seonghwa tensed for half a second before his muscles gave out and he once again went lax against the mattress.

“Hwa … can you wake up a minute?” Yunho whispered, tugging gently at his shoulder.

“Let him sleep!” Hongjoong whined in protest as he tightened his grip around Seonghwa’s neck.

“Look,” Yunho snapped. “I know you two are like … in love or whatever but you have no idea what you’re dealing with here.”

Seonghwa knew he should be scolding him for his blatant disrespect. He’d been bordering on just plain rude since Saturday and he could definitely do with a corrective kick up the backside but Seonghwa just really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to move.

“Maybe not,” Hongjoong puffed back indignantly. “But clearly he’s exhausted so let him rest.”

“We can’t just leave him to sleep every time he gets bad,” Mingi chimed in. “He has meds he’s supposed to take when this happens and we have to monitor it.”

They were right. They had to keep an eye on him so that he didn’t do anything concerning or dangerous, and he knew it. Everybody had seen what happened the last time and nobody would ever forget.

“Monitor? You mean, treat him like a nutter all day? Stare at him and make him uncomfortable? I don’t think so.”

They were arguing like Seonghwa wasn’t even there. And technically, he wasn’t really  _ all  _ there but he had no idea why. He’d been just fine a few hours ago but sometimes shit like this just happened. He hated this part of his brain.

“Well, guess what. I don’t care what your opinion is on this. He’s our friend and this is what’s best for him.”

Seonghwa let out a heavy sigh of frustration and rolled onto his back so he could blink blearily up at his two best friends before Yunho had the chance to actually punch Hongjoong in the face. They’d stood by him through thick and thin and had never left his side and he knew they were trying to help but they didn’t have to be so aggressive about it.

They were protective, he understood that. He was protective of them, too, but he wasn’t going to bite Yeosang’s head off every time he noticed a new hickey on Mingi’s neck.

“Can’t I jus’ stay ‘ere?” he mumbled.

“Tell us what’s wrong first,” Yunho insisted as he slipped his arm beneath his friend’s waist and levered him into a sitting position.

Seonghwa felt his stomach lurch. His body just wasn’t going to cooperate and it didn’t matter if Hermes hit him with the caduceus, there was simply no way he was getting out of bed this morning.

“Is it physical or mental, Hwa? Work with us here.”

Mingi crouched down in front of him and started his administrations, checking his pulse and tugging on his eyelids, looking for whatever it was that he was looking for. The shit that they taught in pre-med was stuff that Seonghwa used to think he could do but then again, he’d failed at rescue breathing just a few days ago so he should probably give the boy a little credit.

“’m just tired,” he mumbled, leaning forwards to rest his head on Mingi’s shoulder.

“No fever, his pulse is fine, pupil’s reactive. He seems a little dehydrated,” Mingi rattled off clinically as he absently ran his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair.

The fried mop felt extra annoying today and every time his friend’s skin snagged on the coarse strands, Seonghwa felt like tearing his entire scalp off if it would just make the sensation go away.

“Did he take anything last night?”

“No,” Jongho provided. “He fell asleep on his own.” 

Yunho sighed, “Alright. I’ve got a class but I’m free after eleven. Hongjoong, can you watch him until then?”

“He’s not a baby,” Hongjoong muttered with a non-discreet roll of his eyes.

It was the straw that broke Yunho’s back.

“This is how I know you have no fucking idea what you’re dealing with,” he practically shouted. “You helped him through one panic attack and now you think you’re an expert but I can assure you that giving him half a Xanax and putting him to bed isn’t helping, Joong!”

There was silence for a beat and Seonghwa was sure that they were going to have a full-blown fistfight but then Hongjoong released a breath of resignation.

“I’ll watch him until you get back … I’m sorry. I know I don’t know everything but I just don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Yunho conceded in return. “We don’t want him uncomfortable either, but Seonghwa isn’t well. You have to remember that, Joong. We have to do what’s best for him because he can’t judge that for himself.”

Seonghwa didn’t need to look up from where he still had his face buried in Mingi’s shoulder to know that Yunho was giving Hongjoong a hard, meaningful look as he spoke. He had a strong suspicion that, as long as Yunho was in protective mode, he and Hongjoong would never truly get along.

From the little time they’d spent together, Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong was the wind: light and free, always dancing back and forth, causing trouble, ruffling leaves. And Yunho was a big old tree: solid, sturdy, reliable. His branches were sheltering, his fruits were nourishment even if they came in the form of bad English poetry. 

But they could never be compatible with one another because the wind could only rustle the leaves but it couldn’t overpower the trunk, and the tree could only ever stand against the gales. It would never sway with it.

Seonghwa gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for his clever analogy.

He must have gone back to sleep because he didn’t hear the moment that they all departed but he felt Hongjoong disentangle himself from the blankets and the loss of warmth he left behind. He vaguely recognised the sound of him slipping in and out as he checked on him but he was barely lucid for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

All too soon, however, Hongjoong was gently shaking him awake.

“Can you get up to eat something?”

“Can it be fried chicken?”

“Are you willing to take the risk?”

“Lord Pan will understand.” 

Hongjoong chuckled fondly, “Then I’ll get you some chicken.”

Seonghwa’s face stretched into a smile for the first time that morning. He was glad that Hongjoong was feeling healthy enough to actually move around. That was the motivation he needed to crawl out of his own hole of darkness for a little while.

He’d forgotten what fried chicken tasted like and, honestly, what on Earth was he thinking when he’d decided to go vegan? 

He raked his hair away from his face yet again as he clamped his teeth down on another bite of chicken. This time, his nail caught on a stiff blonde strand and he may have cried in frustration if Hongjoong wasn’t watching him like a hawk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My hair is bothering me.”

“What’s the matter with it?” Hongjoong asked as he reached over and experimentally stroked his fingers through the troublesome mop a couple of times.

“It’s fried. I should have stuck to my natural colour.”

“It just needs a little conditioner.”

“I use conditioner.”

“You use a five-in-one bodywash/shampoo/conditioner/dish soap.”

“That’s four.”

Hongjoong just giggled, “Okay. Hold on.”

He pushed himself to his still-slightly-unsteady feet and tottered out of the door. It only took two minutes of Seonghwa sitting bewilderedly in his chair for him to come back holding a shower cap, a bottle of oil, some conditioner and a box of black hair dye.

“Let’s fix your hair.”

By the time Yunho returned, Seonghwa had black hair again. The strands were still a little frazzled but they were much better than before. 

Hongjoong had passed out again and was still unconscious in the bedroom while Seonghwa was trying to catch up on assignments from where he was sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Yunho asked him as he shrugged off his bag.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Seonghwa dismissed. “I guess I really was just tired.”

“I’m sorry about this morning,” came the shameful response as its owner flopped down into the chair beside Seonghwa. “We just get worried.”

“It’s … fine. I get it.” He leaned over to rest his head on his best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Speaking of that, Hwa … We need to talk.”

“Is it about Joong?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it.” And he really didn’t. He couldn’t think of anything worse than getting a lecture about how the best thing that had ever happened to him was indeed not the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I’m confused enough as it is and I’ve been doing a good job ignoring it.”

“I just think you both need to slow down. I spoke to Yeosang and …”

“Why are you discussing him behind his back?” Seonghwa snapped, feeling a surge of protectiveness rush through his bloodstream. 

“It’s not like that,” Yunho whined pleadingly, sounding just like the human embodiment of a golden retriever puppy who’d been outed for digging up the vegetable patch. “Listen … Hongjoong uses a heavy amount of drugs. His mother’s an alcoholic, his father funds his habits and neither of them care what he does so long as he doesn’t embarrass them. Joong isn’t strong enough … mentally … to have a boyfriend like you.”

Seonghwa decided to ignore the poorly chosen wording. ‘Like you’ made it sound as if he were a different species who was destined to die alone and unloved. And until Hongjoong had kissed him in that bowling alley bathroom, he really had thought that was how his story would end. 

“It can’t be that heavy,” was the only thing he could come up with in response. “He’s still in school.”

Needless to say, Yunho did not look impressed.

“He’s functioning. San and Wooyoung use, too, but even they know not to touch some of the stuff that Joong does. Unless he’s willing to get clean, I don’t feel right about you two being together. And if worst comes to worst, I’ll call your parents.”

Seonghwa’s head shot up so quickly that he felt something pop in his neck but he couldn’t even bring himself to care as he gaped at Yunho, his eyes brimming with hurt and betrayal, “You wouldn’t.”

If the situation weren’t so drastic, he would have laughed at the way Yunho’s shoulders sank as he sighed. He looked like he was trying to be mature and responsible when, in reality, Seonghwa could still remember the time when he tried to mix diet coke and Mentos in his own mouth.

“I would. I rather you hate me than end up dead, Hwa.”

“You don’t know him,” Seonghwa protested weakly. “You don’t see what I see.”

“I don’t doubt that, Hwa, but you’re my priority. I like the guy. Really, I do, but you’re still always going to be at the top of that list. You and Mingi forever take precedent.”

“You don’t know him,” Seonghwa repeated. He really couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

And the look that Yunho gave him in return was nothing short of heartbreakingly pitying as he took his friend’s hand and murmured as softly and as gently as he could, “Neither do you.” 

Seonghwa knew he was right. He knew he had a point. He knew he wasn’t well and neither was Hongjoong. 

He knew he should listen but Yunho had no idea how safe and warm and loved Hongjoong made him feel and Yunho had no idea what it was like to spend years with a disease eating away at his brain, months of being called names and laughed at, and then to have an unlikely angel swoop in and embrace him without question.

Hongjoong never questioned anything. He just knew. He just agreed when Seonghwa needed it, held him when he needed it and kissed him when he needed it.

He flashed Yunho a sad smile because he loved him – he would always love him – but this was  _ his _ future.  _ His  _ happiness. Not Yunho’s.

The bedroom was lit only by the midday sun streaming through the window when Seonghwa returned, finding Hongjoong bundled up in the blankets on the bed, sleepy but just about conscious enough to hold a conversation.

“I’m sorry I caused a fight again,” he mumbled as Seonghwa sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“You didn’t. It’s okay. Yunho shouldn’t have been speaking to the others about you.”

“But he’s right, you know?” Hongjoong pushed, sitting up against the headboard and regarding Seonghwa with wide expressive eyes. “I’m an addict.”

“And I’m a nutcase,” Seonghwa fired back. “Call it poetic justice.”

Neither of them could possibly be considered normal. Neither of them was in the right state of mind to muddle through this strange concept that the mortals called ‘love’ and yet Hongjoong was like a breath of fresh air after drowning in the sea.

Hongjoong was like light when all Seonghwa had known for years was darkness. So maybe they were destined to burn bright and then fizzle out. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together until the end of time but, right here, right now, they could say “fuck that”, and give it their best shot anyway.

“Am I?” Hongjoong asked tentatively.

“What?”

“Am I your poetic justice?” he clarified. “It kinda implies something bad, don’t you think?”

“This could never be something bad,” Seonghwa whispered, taking Hongjoong’s small hand in his and running the pad of his thumb over the individual peaks of his knuckles. “Maybe I needed an addict and you needed a nutcase. We’ll cancel each other out.”

He glanced up and met Hongjoong’s eyes. There was pain there. Worry. Sadness. But also so much love.

“You’re always so strange, Hwa.”

Seonghwa shrugged, “I try.”

He couldn’t lose this. Whatever ‘this’ was, he couldn’t let it go. Maybe one day it would be ripped from his protesting fingertips but while he was in control, he would hold on with both hands and defend it to the death.

After so long, didn’t he deserve it? Happiness? Love? And didn’t Hongjoong deserve it, too?

“We didn’t talk about this morning,” his boyfriend pitched in, cutting Seonghwa from his internal monologue. “Yunho said I don’t know what I’m dealing with.”

Seonghwa expelled a long breath through his nose and dropped his hands into his lap, still absently toying with Hongjoong’s fingers without really thinking about it.

“It’s … complicated,” he began. “Body chemistry is easy to throw off and if I’m not on the right mix at any given time, the meds don’t work so I guess I just woke up a little out of it.”

“So they don’t always work?” 

He shook his head, “They usually do. I’ve been fine for years. Sometimes there are just off days.”

“Well, maybe it’s the meds themselves,” Hongjoong pointed out, shuffling a little closer to Seonghwa and reaching up with his free hand to brush a lock of freshly blackened hair from his boyfriend’s face. “Not to sound completely ignorant or anything but my mum was a lot more violent when she was drinking and using than when she wasn’t. Maybe your body is messed up because of the drugs in your system.”

Seonghwa had never thought about it that way.

“So …” he mumbled, lost deep in the galactic stars he could see reflected in Hongjoong’s eyes. “You’re saying …”

“Don’t do that,” Hongjoong backtracked at once. “I’m not trying to pretend that I know better than your doctors and I’m not a conspiracy theorist either … I’m just … saying. Surely it couldn’t hurt to lay off the drugs for a bit and see how it feels.”

He could try. It wasn’t like anything terrible was going to happen. He wasn’t going to die or start splashing petrol everywhere and dancing around with matches. There wouldn’t be a sudden drop in his mood or a sudden spike in his spirits if he just took a break from the pills.

And it wasn’t like he wouldn’t go straight back to taking them if he felt a little off. Even if he couldn’t tell, the others would point it out and he would pick up the bottle again. Hongjoong could keep an extra eye on him.

If there was a chance that what his boyfriend was saying was right – that the meds were really doing him more harm than good – then surely it was worth at least considering the possibility of setting them aside.

“I didn’t take them this morning,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“And besides a breakdown when the conditioner got in your eye earlier, you’ve been fine,” Hongjoong smirked with a playful nudge of his elbow.

“Funny.”

“I’m serious,” the boy insisted, tapping his knuckles against the underside of Seonghwa’s chin to coax him into raising his head and meeting his eye. “Nothing’s happened, has it? No panic, no anxiety, no mood swings, no mania. Yunho just bummed you out and there’s still nothing wrong.”

He was right. Seonghwa hadn’t swallowed a single pill this morning and yet, while he should have been stewing in a vat of bubbling anger at the condescension Yunho had shown him just now, he was absolutely fine.

And he was with Hongjoong.

What more could he need? 


	10. Give Him to Zeus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to our regular schedule:  
> Tuesdays Thursdays and Saturdays are posting days  
> Yesterday's post was just to bring awareness to the situation in the UK.  
> To help please use the link below.

Time was a strange concept. Years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes. They could either mean everything or nothing; the difference between life and death depending on the circumstances.

A few seconds of sunlight could be hell for a vampire but heaven to some guy in a Siberian prison. A woman could give life to an entire human in a few months’ time but it only took a second to pull a trigger and obliterate that human’s skull. Weeks for a fruit to be ripe enough to eat and only a few seconds to devour it.

Lord Chronos himself couldn’t explain the nuisance that was time to Seonghwa.

Even now, after months of taking his meds to level his mood, months to find the right amount and mix and time of day to take them, his stability was waning after one missed dose. It took a few days for him to gather the courage to ignore the pill bottle in the first place.

He’d been cutting back since that morning with Hongjoong and, really, the only thing he was taking now were the mood stabilisers but he’d skipped that one, too, just to see what would happen and honestly? He felt fine.

It was just different. Everything felt different. The cloud that usually shielded his mind was nowhere to be seen and it felt like he could finally see the sun again. Lights looked different. Rain felt different. Touch, taste, smell … It was like he’d been on a torturously bland diet for years and now he was suddenly being offered a whole cake.

Classes didn’t seem as long and conversations didn’t feel as tasking even if Soobin had taken it upon himself to be around more now that Seonghwa was being a little friendlier. He’d obviously missed the memo that stated he wasn’t invited to Seonghwa’s new “be friends with everyone” campaign, but even he wasn’t so bothersome these days.

Everything was simply … better.

“See you at the study group, Mars!” one of the guys from his management class hollered as he walked away.

Seonghwa waved at him even though he had no earthly clue what he was talking about. Study group? Why would he ever sign up for an activity like that? There were probably a million other things he could do with his time. Like shoemaking. He’d always wondered what it was like to make shoes. Like the elves in that one children’s story book. Maybe he should start a shoe business. He’d have to switch around a few classes but it seemed doable.

“Seonghwa!” Soobin called, snapping his excessively long fingers in Seonghwa’s face.

“What?” 

“I’ve been trying to speak to you for, like, five minutes. Are you okay?”

Seonghwa huffed, “You know … I can’t recall a time you’ve ever started a conversation with some kind of pleasantry. It’s always, ‘Seonghwa! Are you okay?’ and I find that a little off-putting.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, hurrying to keep up with Seonghwa’s speedy footfalls as they proceeded down the hallway. A sane person would have taken the hint by now and left him alone but Soobin wouldn’t be Soobin if he didn’t show up where he wasn’t wanted. 

“Well, sorry,” the boy countered sarcastically. “Hi. Top of the mornin’ to ya. Great weather we’re having today … Are you okay?” 

It was then that Seonghwa realised he wasn’t getting out of this conversation, no matter how fast he walked or how rude his responses were.

“I’m fine,” he sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Why? Did your Mars senses tingle?”

Soobin snorted, “Sort of.”

“Well, I’m good. Great. Never better.”

Seonghwa shouldered his way into the cafeteria and paused to scan the crowd for any sign of his roommates and … well … the guys who’d somehow become his roommates for the last few weeks. Wooyoung, San and Yeosang were fine but they were going to have to start buying their own groceries and cleaning up after themselves.

Great Hera … was this what parenting felt like?

“Well, you seem off,” Soobin continued, clearly oblivious to Seonghwa’s lack of interest in their interaction.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You most definitely aren’t.” Soobin was eyeing him weirdly, almost as if he were slightly afraid. “You’re like … skittish and smiley.”

He reached up and poked at Seonghwa’s face, not even flinching or faltering when Seonghwa hissed indignantly and slapped his hand away with a harsh snap of, “Cut it out.”

From across the room, he caught sight of Hongjoong’s newly-dyed head of shaggy brown hair and felt a grin splitting his jaw in half. He started weaving his way through the crowd of chattering students but Soobin stayed at his shoulder nonetheless.

“Hey … How are you and Joong anyway?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity,” Soobin offered pathetically.

“You need a hobby that doesn’t involve me,” Seonghwa pointed out just as he reached Hongjoong’s table.

“I’ve got you lunch already,” his boyfriend announced, indicating the ownerless tray waiting on the table beside him. “Come sit down.”

Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder to tell Soobin that they’d simply have to have this infuriatingly tedious conversation at another time – maybe the 42nd of Neverary – but the bane of his existence was already shoving his way through the throng to his friend’s table on the other side of the cafeteria. 

He never had liked sharing Seonghwa’s attention, and doing so would be quite a feat when there was Hongjoong here looking as good as he did.

Seonghwa’s heart was fluttering, just like it often did when he was in the presence of true beauty. The weather was getting colder now and Hongjoong had started replacing his oversized hoodies with brightly coloured sweaters, still a few sizes too large. It was never about looks for him, though. Not that he wasn’t stunning in every sense of the word, but their relationship was so much more than that.

Seonghwa felt like he was finally being appreciated for more than just his face and Hongjoong for more than just his parents’ money. 

“Thanks,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor and slipping into the chair between Hongjoong and Jongho.

The two of them tried to keep their PDA to a minimum around the others but Seonghwa couldn’t resist leaning over to brush his lips against the soft skin of Hongjoong’s cheek, much to Jongho’s very established disgust.

“That’s not fair!” Wooyoung pouted from the other side of the table. “San, kiss me!”

“No!” Jongho shouted, grabbing his apple and cocking his elbow threateningly. “No kissing. No one is allowed to kiss.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “We need to get your cherry popped, my itsy bitsy little baby brother.”

“Don’t make me nauseous.”

“No, really …” Yunho piped up as he finally set down the book of Edgar Allen Poe’s top 20 poems that he seemed to have been trying to memorise for unknown reasons. “Your innocence is crazy, even compared to Yeosang.” 

“Yeosang isn’t innocent,” Mingi snorted, earning an elbow in the side from the boy himself.

“Nu-uh,” Wooyoung protested as he sat back in his chair, folded his arms and nodded solemnly as if what he was saying was so factual that no one could dare argue. “Sangie is the purest soul on campus.”

Mingi practically choked on his water, “Are you kidding me? Last night, he – Ow! What the fuck?”

Jongho smirked with pride, his apple having struck Mingi squarely on the nose even though they were sitting at opposite ends of the table. 

“I don’t want to know,” he complained, holding up a finger to each of them in warning. “Listening was bad enough. Seriously, you all need to move back into your own dorm.”

Wooyoung started spluttering indignantly and Hongjoong used the distraction to lean over to Seonghwa and whisper, “I’ve never been so happy to be an only child.”

Seonghwa snorted so violently that apple juice spurted from both his nostrils and San had to fetch them a handful of napkins so Hongjoong could wipe his face clean. The joke seemed ten times funnier than it should be but he couldn’t figure out why.

There was a strange disconnection between his rationale and his reactions to things. Maybe that was why he was feeling friendlier with others. Less bothered, less anxious. Hongjoong was grinning at him, clearly pleased that his joke was being received so well.

The bickering at the table calmed down enough for everyone to start eating again and Seonghwa – still mopping at his sopping chin – glanced across the cafeteria as he took another bite of his thankfully non vegan lunch. 

Soobin was staring at him like he usually was but there was some unnamed emotion mixed in with the typical concern that clouded his gaze. Seonghwa briefly wondered what it was but ultimately decided to pay him no mind. He was happy here.

“Hwa, stop that,” Mingi scolded, drawing Seonghwa’s attention down to where he’d been absently running his fork over the ridge in his wrist.

He’d barely had a moment of anxiety since he’d stopped taking his pills but there were a few unhealthy habits that seemed to simply be engrained in his muscle memory forevermore.

He’d noticed quickly that sleeping without first taking his insomnia medication was nearly impossible. Concentrating was easier but it was also easy to focus on the wrong things and his anger came just as quickly as his smiles yet lingered for a lot longer. So far, though, he’d been managing to keep a handle on it. 

Yunho and Mingi seemed none of the wiser. Soobin, on the other hand, always had an uncanny ability to figure things like that out and so Seonghwa knew that, as long as that boy was kept in the dark, no one else would ever be enlightened.

Hongjoong pulled his hand into his lap and carefully ran his thumb over the irritated scar, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” Seonghwa beamed back at him.

The genuine stretch of his lips felt good. Hongjoong’s fingers on his skin felt good. Everything felt good.

\----------------------

“In the case of a first-time patellar subluxation due to extreme activity and/or contact sport where the method of R.I.C.E – which involved rest, ice compression and elevation – is used but does not lessen symptoms such as dislocation and swelling, what type of therapy should the physiotherapist suggest?” 

Mingi glanced expectantly up at San as he finished reading the question off the cue card. It was nearing midterms and Yeosang’s idea to have everybody study together even though they were in different fields was actually turning out to be a decent idea. 

Some of Mingi and San’s classes crossed on occasion since they were both in healthcare and Wooyoung shared a few with Hongjoong because of their design and art majors. Seonghwa had been surprised to find out that Yeosang was actually studying political science which sometimes crossed with a few of his business lectures. 

That boy didn’t seem like the type but Seonghwa had been forced to learn a lot of things about his new group of friends very quickly. Like how Jongho couldn’t function without coffee, San couldn’t sleep without hugging something or someone, Wooyoung was physically incapable of staying quiet and Yeosang loved drones. 

He also learned that Lord Boop’s full name was Lord Whoopty Boopty Scoop, in honour of the great Kanye West, and that he wore socks simply because … he liked it. 

“What are the options?” San asked, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing at his temples. 

“This isn’t multiple choice,” Mingi responded with a sigh. “Come on. Think about it. The answer is really obvious. Dr Moon taught it in one of the first lectures.” 

Seonghwa had already completed his worksheet and the final paper for the class that had set the exam online and now he was merely observing as Mingi tried to help San through the horror that was studying. 

It was in times like these that he had hoped for his giant, blundering friend. It was in times like these that he remembered Mingi had actually graduated top of his class and that he really was quite smart. He wasn’t just tall, cute, funny and every girl on campus’ fantasy. He was a person under there, and one of Seonghwa’s favourite ones at that. 

When he met him and Yunho, he hadn’t thought they could ever be friends. Their worlds were too different. 

Seonghwa had been an outcast even back then. Children could sense otherness. They knew when a person wasn’t right and they’d already shunned him before he’d even realised there was something wrong with him. 

One day he’d forgotten his lunch and as he sat at the edge of the playground alone, fighting the urge to cry or just fake a headache to be sent home, Yunho had appeared, all gangly limbs, pale skin and bright smile, and had shared his small portion of rice cakes and sticky fried chicken with him. They’d been inseparable ever since. 

His relationship with Mingi took a little more time. He was a child model and in a lot of those magazines you could find in a doctors’ office or a hair salon. 

He was often left alone because he seemed intimidating but on one particular occasion after school, Seonghwa had seen him standing out in the rain waiting for his bus and his ten-year-old mind was conflicted because he didn’t want to be cursed at or sent away but he also didn’t want the boy to get wet. So he shared his umbrella. 

He’d needed to hold his arm up pretty high because Mingi was so tall but his face had split into a cute crooked grin and it had all been worth it. They hadn’t spoken again until months later but Mingi had gradually become his friend, then Yunho’s, and then they were joined at the hip.

Even when they grew up and Seonghwa got his diagnosis, Yunho spent all his time reading bad poetry and Mingi couldn’t keep it in his pants, they were still the best of friends and always would be. 

And Seonghwa had a feeling he’d started to form a similar bond with the boys gathered in this small dorm with him right now. 

“I give up!” San huffed, holding his head in his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. 

He leaned back into Wooyoung whose arms instantly looped around him as they settled comfortably into each other, as if their bodies were just meant to fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle. 

“I think I’m done for the day, too,” Hongjoong announced as he snapped his book shut. 

“Four hours. I think we could all use a break,” Jongho grunted as he stood up. “I’m gonna order food.” 

“Get me some chicken, please!” Yeosang shouted after him. 

“Get your own fucking chicken!” came the shout in response. 

San groaned in protest of the yelling, still clutching his temples, “Can we not …?” 

“Is it bad?” Wooyoung whispered from where he was carefully threading his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Do you need a fix?” 

San made a noise of refusal but leaned over until his head was pillowed in Wooyoung’s lap which, according to Seonghwa, would have been an indication that it was indeed ‘that’ bad. 

They were cute together. Beneath all Wooyoung’s screaming and San’s nonchalance, there was a strong bond there that Seonghwa wanted to experience for himself. 

Those two adored each other and anyone with eyes could tell that what they had wasn’t just a college fling. It wasn’t one of those relationships that built too fast and then crashed just as quickly. It was slow and lazy but genuine and fierce. 

San and Wooyoung were going to be together for a long, long time and Seonghwa wanted that so badly that it hurt. 

He never knew just how much he wanted it. Maybe he’d put it out of his mind because he’d never believed it was possible for somebody like him to have something as beautiful as that. 

“What’s going on up there?” Hongjoong interjected, placing his small hand over Seonghwa’s larger one and gently halting the movement of his fingernails over his scar. “Don’t do that in front of Yunho. I don’t want to be scolded.” 

Seonghwa glanced up warily but Yunho was busy talking to Yeosang who had somehow managed to get Lord Boop to sit still on his shoulder like a fucking pirate’s parrot. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled dismissively. “Just midterms.”

“You finished the work sheet and most of your assignments are submitted,” Hongjoong pointed out, lowering his voice so as not to be heard. “And you haven’t had to take any extra meds today. You’re doing fine. I’m proud of you.” 

He leaned over to kiss the side of Seonghwa’s jaw, the only place he could reach from their position on the floor, but the light peck of his cool lips against Seonghwa’s skin sent heat spiking through him and landing directly in the centre of his chest. It wrapped around his ribcage and squeezed until it almost choked him. 

He and Hongjoong had spent a lot more time together and although the idea of what was happening between them still scared him, Seonghwa had found himself worrying about it less and less. 

When he was alone, staring at the bottles full of prescribed drugs, it gave him strength to think that, even like this, Hongjoong still wanted him. He was waiting to wake up, waiting for Hongjoong to laugh in his face and tell him it was all a joke, but then he would kiss him or hold him or even buy him lunch and suddenly all those concerns went out the window because even if all this blew up in his face, he’d had a few moments where he’d felt normal. 

A few moments where he hadn’t popped ten pills in a day and wasn’t reduced to tears every time he stepped out of the dorms, and that was all because of Kim Hongjoong and even if one day Hongjoong decided that Seonghwa wasn’t what he wanted, he could still say that he had this and at least the pain would be real and at least, for once, his feelings would be his own and not something his brain had concocted in an attempt to replicate human emotion. 

“You’re zoning out again, Hwa.” 

“I’m fine. Tired, I guess.” 

Hongjoong smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him downwards until he had Seonghwa’s head in his lap. 

“This is bullshit,” Wooyoung mumbled from across the room, followed by an audible sigh of exhaustion from San. 

“Let it go, babe.” 

“No … This is bullshit. Look at them being so fucking cute. We were here first. We’re the fucking senior boyfriends. We should be able to coin this position.” 

“Babe, it’s not that deep.” 

“What next? Is Yeosang going to start calling Mingi ‘babe’?” Wooyoung continued to ramble indignantly. “That’s my name. I’m ‘babe’.” 

“Actually,” Mingi piped up. “Last night, Yeosang called me something really cute. He shouted it actually. I think he meant to say ‘oh –’ Ow! Fuck!”

Seonghwa looked over, still lying in Hongjoong’s lap, and realised the perpetrator of Mingi’s sudden silence was the wooden spoon that seemed to have struck the back of his head if the way he was pouting and rubbing at the base of his skull was anything to go by. 

“No!” came Jongho’s shout from the kitchen. 

“We live with children,” Hongjoong chuckled fondly, but that chuckle was cut short when his phone screen lit up with a message from his mother. 

Seonghwa hadn’t meant to read it but it was right there, in front of his face, and curiosity got the better of him. 

_Stipend is in the school account. No more hard stuff. Coke if you must but nothing stronger. Your father still isnt happy about the PCP_

Hongjoong let out a long breath through his nose, staring at the screen for a few moments before he finally responded with a short ‘ok’. Barely ten seconds had passed before the device lit up again. 

_Love you my strawberry boy. Stay out of trouble okay_

Hongjoong tossed the device aside without typing an answer and reached up to scrub his hand over his face, still sighing deeply. His leg started to bounce, still with Seonghwa’s head on it, and that was when Seonghwa realised his boyfriend was on the other end of an anxiety attack. Or, at least, something similar. 

“You okay, Joong?” 

His gentle attempts at catching the boy’s attention worked and Seonghwa saw the way his mouth was tightened and his forehead was creased and he looked for a moment as if he was about to say ‘yes’ but then shook his head at the last second. 

A tear slipped from his eye, splashing onto Seonghwa’s face below, and it seemed to startle the both of them. Hongjoong was crying and the realisation had Seonghwa’s heart squealing in protest because Hongjoong was crying and he didn’t know what to do. 

He sat up so he was in a better position to hold his boyfriend’s little face in his hands and stared at the thin streams running down both his cheeks as if he could make it stop just with the force of his gaze alone. 

“Oh, Joongi … Are you okay?” Wooyoung called from wherever he was, but Seonghwa too focused on the droplets that trickled over Hongjoong’s lips. 

“Can we talk?” he asked softly. “Please?” 

It was such a simple question but it sent Seonghwa’s mind hurtling back to the last time he’d heard Hongjoong say that. It had been in that hallway right before he’d tried to kill himself and there was no way Seonghwa was ever going to allow that to happen again. 

He stood up, stooped down and hoisted Hongjoong up off the floor so he could carry him straight to the bedroom without dawdling or protesting. 

He kicked the door shut behind him, sat down on the edge of the mattress with Hongjoong in his lap and started to rock him slowly in his arms. The motion seemed to be just as soothing for both of them. 

“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa breathed into his hair after a moment. 

“I … I just …” Hongjoong sniffled, loud and wet. “She told me she loves me.” 

“Who? Your mum?” He felt the boy nod against his chest and frowned in confusion. “What’s the problem?” 

His own parents couldn’t do much for him besides take him to his doctor when he had an episode but there was never any doubt in his mind that they loved him. They said it all the time. He couldn’t understand why something as simple as that – something a mother should say as a matter of instinct – would be enough to bring Hongjoong to tears. 

“She’s a fucking shit parent …” came the sob in explanation, and Seonghwa pulled him closer to his chest.

“Talk to me …” he murmured. “You’re crying.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Hongjoong hiccupped a couple of times before rubbing his face into Seonghwa’s shirt and taking a deep breath. 

“She’s had the drug problem for as long as I’ve known myself. I was actually born in a bathtub because she was too high to get herself to a hospital. Her parents were rich. They left everything to her when they died and my dad wasn’t all that well-off but he was really ambitious. He invested a lot of my mum’s money and … well … now they’re even richer.” 

“So the rumours are true,” Seonghwa joked in a poor attempt to humour the situation. “My boyfriend is a millionaire.” 

“Yeah, a millionaire with a drug problem and parents who don’t give a shit.” 

They were both silent for a minute, neither knowing what to say or do, but then Hongjoong sighed yet again. 

“Do you know how often my dad says he loves me?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. He could guess from the few times he’d heard the two of them interacting that it wasn’t much but he certainly wasn’t expecting Hongjoong to choke out a bitter laugh and spit the word, “Never.” 

What kind of father didn’t tell his son he loved him? 

“I wasn’t part of his plan to bed a pretty young rich girl. He never did drugs himself but he made sure my mum had plenty and when I was old enough, he made sure I had plenty, too. You know … To get me high enough that I wouldn’t ever notice I was being neglected.”

Seonghwa tried not to react but now that his mind was clear, there were a lot of emotions fighting for dominance inside his head, and anger was by far the most dominant. Anger at Hongjoong’s stupid father and his stupid mentality and his stupid stupidness. 

“Do you know how many times my mum has said she loves me?” 

Seonghwa didn’t answer but he tightened his grip anyway. 

“Every time she gets high. It’s always when she comes down and she’s in that stage where she’s not as intoxicated but she’s still happy and everything is right in her world. That’s the only time I’m anything more than an inconvenience to her.” 

He choked out a bitter laugh. It was a wetter, sadder version of the melodious giggle that Seonghwa loved. 

“I don’t know why it feels so different today. My birthday is coming up and … I don’t know … I just wish she cared.”

“I care,” Seonghwa spluttered, slightly louder than he’d intended. “I’ll spend your birthday with you.” 

Hongjoong tilted his head upwards so that their eyes could meet and then he stared long and hard. Long enough and hard enough for Seonghwa’s ears to turn red, but neither of them broke the contact. 

“Did you take anything today?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. He hadn’t and nothing had happened that would make him want to. He’d felt a little shaky earlier that morning but he felt fine now. With Hongjoong, he was always fine. More than fine. More than anything. 

“Do me a favour,” Hongjoong whispered. 

“Anything.” 

It was an ingrained response but Seonghwa realised that he meant it. He would do anything and everything to make sure that Hongjoong would be happy, that Hongjoong would never have to cry like this again. 

“Don’t ever tell me you love me if you’re drugged. Don’t say anything unless you really mean it.” 

“I love you,” Seonghwa blurted, and Hongjoong giggled. 

It was a gorgeous sound. 

“I love you, too.” 

“No, I mean it … I …” Seonghwa drew in a deliberately deep breath and took a moment to try and put his thoughts into order. 

How could he possibly explain just how much this boy meant to him? He may not know exactly how he felt about the relationship that was blooming between them but he wanted Hongjoong at least to know that, on his end, everything that was happening was 100% real and pure and good. No matter how confusing and difficult it may seem. 

He’d been on mood stabilisers for so long that he wasn’t sure what to concentrate on without them but whatever this was that he was feeling right now, he wanted it. He wanted it forever. He wouldn’t ever stop wanting it and he wanted Hongjoong to know that. 

“I love you, Kim Hongjoong, and whether I’m drunk or sober, drugged, high out of my mind, manic depressive or anything in between, I want you to know that I love you and maybe sometimes I’ll say that while I’m drugged but I promise my feelings won’t change when I come back down. I love you.”

Hongjoong was looking at him with stars in his eyes. Maybe those stars were just the reflection of his tears but, for Seonghwa right here and right now, they were stars. 

“And I promise that I love you, too, no matter what. Drunk or sober, high, manic depressive or anything in between and I promise that, even if I’m the one who’s high, I’ll still love you when I come back down.”

Seonghwa smirked, “Did we just exchange vows?” 

“Totally did.” 

“I have something to confess.” 

“What?” 

“I promised Zeus my first born back in elementary school.” 

“What?” 

“I fell from the swing set and I thought my arm was broken and I was scared that my mum would be mad so I told him that if my arm wasn’t broken, I’d give him my first born. And it wasn’t broken. So if we have children, I’ve got to give the first one to Zeus. I hope you don’t mind.”

Hongjoong blinked. “Seonghwa, I don’t know how to tell you this … We’re gay.” 

“In that case,” Seonghwa shrugged. “Do you think Zeus will accept Yunho instead? He’s our eldest.”

Hongjoong cackled. Not just a chuckle or a giggle. A full-on cackle of mirth that had the angels singing on high as he buried himself further into Seonghwa’s side. 

“You’re so weird, Hwa … But I love you.” 

And wasn’t that the only thing that mattered? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to check this out  
> https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/327108
> 
> If you aren't British then you cannot sign this petition but you can help spread awareness. Please support the hashtag #uktransrights on all social media platforms and encourage UK citizens to add their signatures


	11. Laughing With Poseidon

Seonghwa had never liked winter that much. It was too cold to go outside but Mingi and Yunho were always insisting that he venture out into the freezing gales with them because it was “good for his vitamin D”. Which would make sense if there was virtually any sunlight during winter at all, but there never was.

He always had a tendency to get seriously depressed around the end of the year anyway. Something about the deficiency of serotonin in his bloodstream that latched onto his mood and dragged it down and down and down until he could barely find the motivation to get out of bed.The Goddess Oizys held him close in those times and swaddled him in blankets of despair and there usually wasn't a thing he could do to stop it.

To him, winter symbolised darkness and sadness and all the other things he didn’t need to deal with on top of everything else he was already battling to control. Which was why it came as a pleasant surprise when he didn’t show any sign of displaying those symptoms as the seasons rolled into each other.

Instead, he felt completely the opposite. He felt positive. Dare he say, even happy? And he knew it was all because of Hongjoong. That boy was his sunshine, his vitamin D and his source of serotonin all in one go. He could just smile and Seonghwa’s frozen heart would melt.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he actually had the energy and the desire to join his friends in their little social excursions. His drugs had been weighing him down for months and only now was he experiencing true euphoria. He couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to ditch them.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Hongjoong had teased the other day after Seonghwa had grabbed him up in a big bear hug and spun him around several times by way of greeting. “You’re so much happier these days. They can’t have put you on the right meds if you’re …”

Seonghwa could only nod and mumble incoherent affirmatives, muffling Hongjoong’s words with his own mouth as he brought their lips together. 

Nothing brought him as much happiness as kissing Hongjoong. Whenever they shared that sliver of intimacy, the word ‘misery’ did not exist in his vocabulary.

“You’re a genius,” he’d said once they finally drew apart, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his boyfriend’s ear. “What did I do to deserve you in my life?”

Yunho, on the other hand, was a different story. He watched Seonghwa’s every move, disapproving grimaces flashing across his face every time he witnessed his so-called best friend laughing or being particularly boisterous when it came to messing around with San and Wooyoung.

Even Jongho was starting to send frowns in his direction, but Seonghwa ignored the both of them. If they couldn’t accept the fact that he was finally starting to feel like a human being instead of a zombie then that was their problem.

He wasn’t their charity case anymore. He was getting better and it wasn’t because of anything they’d done and somehow that was making them upset.

They’d probably wanted to be the ones to slap a label on him and say “hey, look, we fixed the psycho”, but he’d proved them wrong. He’d proved to them that he didn’t need them and their kiddie-gloved touches to pull himself out of that dark, dark hole he’d resided in for so long. 

That dark hole was long gone now. There was only sunshine and rainbows ahead of him and he got to share each and every one of those with Kim Hongjoong: the most beautiful boy to ever live.

It was the morning of the first frost that he awoke to the warmth of his boyfriend snuggled under the covers with him and knew – just _knew_ – that today was going to be a good day. Like with his not-so-good days, he could feel it in his bones from the moment he opened his eyes.

He looked down at the sleeping bundle of Hongjoong tucked comfortably under his arm and felt a beaming grin slither onto his face at the sight of his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks and his lips puffed it out in a vaguely prominent pout.

“I love you,” he whispered, craning his neck so he could reach far enough to kiss the top of the boy’s head. “I love you so much.”

Hongjoong mumbled something inaudible and burrowed further into his blanket burrito but Seonghwa continued pressing kisses into his hair, unable to stop. He adored him and he wanted him to know that so he clasped his boyfriend’s chin in his hand and pulled his face up into another lip-lock.

“I love you …” he repeated between movements. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I know …” Hongjoong slurred back, planting his hand into the centre of Seonghwa’s chest and pushing ever so slightly. “But ‘m tired … give me five more minutes and then I’ll love you back.”

He tried to turn his head away but Seonghwa wrapped both arms around his waist and rolled on top of him, flattening Hongjoong’s body into the mattress and effectively immobilising him so that they could keep kissing as if the world no longer existed around them.

There was no love that compared to this. It was so strong that it hurt. In a good way. He was addicted to Kim Hongjoong and nothing and nobody would ever be able to take that away from him. If he could kiss him until the end of time, he would. If he could hold him close until the end of the universe, he would.

It may not be possible but at least he could try.

“Right, that’s it,” came Jongho’s indignant grunt from the other side of the room as he tumbled out of bed, tucked his pillow under his arm and dragged his blankets off the mattress. “I’m moving to another dorm.”

He stormed out of the room, trailing his duvet behind him. As soon as the door closed, Seonghwa started to laugh so hard that his arms gave out beneath him and he fell on top of Hongjoong, eliciting a soft _oof_ from his still-half-asleep boyfriend that only caused him to laugh even harder.

He pressed his forehead against Hongjoong’s sternum and tried to muffle his giggles in the kid’s shirt but it was no use. He was already too far gone to stop now. Hongjoong was still floating between the realms of conscious and not but he let out a soft chuckle and even managed to reach out to ruffle Seonghwa’s hair affectionately.

“I think we’ve traumatised him,” Seonghwa wheezed, still lying on top of Hongjoong but too breathless to move. “Yeosang’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Nah …” Hongjoong mumbled, still with his eyes closed. “He’ll be fine. It’s about time someone had The Talk with him anyway.”

Those bleary words may have been nothing more than semi-conscious sleep talk to Hongjoong but to Seonghwa, they were comedic genius, and they set him right back off again. He laughed until there were tears streaming down his cheeks and he had to bury his face in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck just to smother the sounds of his own joy.

A good day.

A very good day. 

\--------------------------

It was the first time in a while that all eight of them were free for a whole morning without anyone needing to work on a group project or a part-time job or a paper. Seonghwa had two overdue assignments and another due in on Monday that he hadn’t even started but they didn’t need to know that.

He didn’t care anyway. School seemed so unimportant. It wasn’t like it was going anywhere anytime soon and he would never again be as young as he was now. Why waste time shut up in an over-heated library pouring over books when he could be out with his friends actually enjoying his life?

If Yunho and Mingi found out, they would probably procure some ridiculous punishment like locking him in his room until he agreed to finish his work. The thought of the disappointed expressions that would paint their faces had Seonghwa laughing. Out loud. A little too loud.

“You’re happy today,” Wooyoung pointed out as they trudged through the undergrowth, silver-tipped leaves crunching beneath their boots. “It’s nice to see you like that.”

Seonghwa beamed and glanced sideways at where Hongjoong was padding along beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. The boy’s eyes flitted upwards before he broke into his own grin and raised himself onto his tiptoes to kiss Seonghwa’s cheek.

Beside them, Wooyoung made a sound of displeasure and ran forward to catch up with his boyfriend screaming about being ‘the cuter couple’ but neither of them bothered to acknowledge him. Their worlds consisted of themselves, each other and nothing else. Any other sounds, any other people were just background decorations.

“How much further?” Jongho whined from the back of the troop. “My feet hurt.”

“It’s not far,” Mingi called over his shoulder at exactly the same time that Yeosang said, “Shut up.”

The two of them had announced this morning that they’d found this little gorge in the middle of the woods just off campus. Apparently, the river ran right through it and the water was so clear that you could see the fish darting back and forth beneath the surface.

Apparently, they’d spent almost two hours the previous day just sitting there and watching the ‘wonders of nature’ or whatever Mingi had called it, and they wanted to show the rest of their little group to the huge old cedar tree where couples had been scratching their initials into the trunk for generations.

Seonghwa would carve his and Hongjoong’s names in stone if he could. Then nothing would ever be able to separate them.

He looked up, unaware that his pace was starting to slow as he marvelled in the beauty of the canopy above him. The trees were just starting to lose their leaves, the ground strewn with flames of orange and brown, and the branches frantically clinging to those that they had left.

The frost clung to every surface in miniscule flakes of white crystal. It made everything snap and crunch satisfyingly beneath their boots and gave their surroundings the illusion that everything was painted with a thin layer of silver.

It was still relatively early morning and the sun was glinting through the spiderweb of bows, steadily turning the frost that tipped everything it touched into water that winked in the light and dripped into the earth.

“It’s so beautiful …” he muttered under his breath. By now, he’s stopped walking and the others were continuing on ahead without having realised one of their own had fallen behind. “So, so beautiful.”

He wanted to stay here forever where the sun shone and the frost made everything crunch. He wanted to turn off the rest of the world and just bask in this moment. They were only just outside campus and yet he’d never realised something so breath-taking was just fifty feet away.

“Hwa?”

Hongjoong was watching him, head tilted to the side and lips curved upwards in a soft smile. He was breath-taking, too. He fit so perfectly with the scenery that Seonghwa wished he could take a picture and then just live inside it forever.

“Come here,” he whispered, holding out his hand for his boyfriend to take.

The moment that their fingers touched, he reeled Hongjoong right up against him, cupped the back of his head and kissed him. Again. He would never get tired of kissing him. And when Hongjoong kissed him back, it was with so much force that they both stumbled and almost fell.

Seonghwa giggled and that giggle turned into a full chesty laugh as he pictured the two of them rolling over the ground, bodies entangled and crisp leaves crackling beneath their combined weight. Hongjoong pulled away, watching him chortle at his own imaginary scenario before he joined in with his own melodious chuckle.

“We should go,” he pointed out. “The others are going to realise we’re not behind them.”

“Screw them,” Seonghwa laughed, taking both of Hongjoong’s hands so he could tug him away from the path and further into the thicket of the trees. “Look around you. Are you telling me you don’t want to enjoy this, just the two of us?”

Hongjoong gave in with an exaggerated huff of feigned resignation, “Why do you have to be so cute?”

Seonghwa didn’t reply. He merely turned on his heel, still clutching his boyfriend’s hand, and set off at a run. He had no idea where he was going or even how far he was planning to go but so long as Hongjoong kept up with him, he could run forever.

A squirrel scurried across the path right in front of them and latched onto the nearest tree, spiralling up its trunk in the blink of an eye. A bird took off from a branch over their heads and prompted a little waterfall of melted frost to rain down from above.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Hongjoong called, panting a little from the exertion but somehow matching Seonghwa’s stride even with his smaller steps and shorter legs.

“No idea!” Seonghwa yelled back. “Who cares anyway?”

He skidded to a stop without warning and spun around just in time to catch Hongjoong as he flew unsuspectingly into his chest. Taking him by the shoulders, he held him at arms’ length and just looked. Looked at the brightest light of his life that had come from nowhere and saved him.

“Let’s ditch school,” he said before he could stop himself, grinning from ear to ear.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong snorted. “We don’t even have any classes today.”

“No. I mean, let’s ditch it for good.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” Seonghwa insisted, giving the boy in his grasp a tiny little shake to prove just how serious he was about this. He hadn’t exactly given it much thought but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. “Fuck the grades and the qualifications and the professors breathing down our necks. Let’s just go. Wherever we want. There’s a bus to Busan in twenty minutes.”

It was perfect. There would be nobody to tell them what to do, nobody to force him to think about all the things he didn’t want to think about. Sure, he would miss Mingi and Yunho and the others but he would call them. Sometimes. They would be able to live their lives to the full without him there.

There would be issues and technicalities, he knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But they could figure that out so long as they were together. They could figure anything out so long as they were together and so long as they were together, they could figure anything out and …

“Hwa …” Hongjoong smiled, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “We will. One day. I promise. One day, we’ll leave all of this behind. My parents, the people who make fun of you … We’ll build a life far away from everything that’s ever hurt us. But not yet, okay? You know we can’t do it yet.”

Seonghwa didn’t. He didn’t know and he didn’t understand. Why couldn’t they just pack up and flee? There was nothing stopping them, right? Right? 

He had a savings account and he was sure Hongjoong did, too. They didn't need much space. They could live in a studio apartment and survive off minimum wage jobs. Hongjoong could sell his drawings and Seonghwa could start making shoes like he wanted. It was perfect. So why couldn't they?

“Can you hear the river?” Hongjoong piped up suddenly, turning his head towards the sound of rushing water. “Come on. I wanna see.”

Now it was his turn to tug Seonghwa behind him like a puppy on a leash, skipping over stones and tree roots and ducking beneath low-hanging branches. Seonghwa briefly wondered how they’d managed to get here when he seemed like only a few minutes ago that they were in bed together, wrapped up in a blanket, giggling and kissing, and now they were out in the snow.

Everything was so beautiful though. Seonghwa couldn’t properly process anything else he passed because it was just too beautiful for words. He hoped there was a painting of this exact spot somewhere out there so that he could find it, hang it on his wall and relive this day for the rest of his life. Hongjoong should paint it. They could sell it when they ran away together.

He laughed.

He didn’t know why.

“Oh.”

Hongjoong skidded to a halt in front of him and he switched his eyes to the front so he could see what his boyfriend was seeing. It was beautiful. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

The ground ahead of them gave way to a crevice in the earth through which the stream was permitted to flow freely without fear of contamination or impediment. There were stones protruding up from the riverbed so it couldn’t have been more than a few inches deep but Seonghwa could still see the fish wriggling towards the surface to nip at whatever tasty morsel was floating on top.

The current was fast, even for such a shallow body, and just a few feet onwards was the source of all the crashing and the splashing: the miniature waterfall that pounded against the rocks in gorgeous white ribbons of froth. It had three levels in which the water had to fall before it reached the stream itself and the greenery that framed it on all sides gave it the appearance of some kind of fantasy fairy film scene.

Yeosang had been right. The water was so clear. It was probably safe enough to drink. Maybe even to swim. Not that there was much to swim in but Seonghwa could imagine sitting on one of those rocks and allowing the water to tumble onto his back.

Hongjoong had pulled out his phone and was busy taking photos so he didn’t see his boyfriend shrugging off his coat and toeing off his shoes. Seonghwa wasn’t planning to take his shirt off but he would have been lying if he said it hadn’t crossed his mind.

Hongjoong hadn’t seen his body yet and standing shirtless beneath a waterfall as waves of liquid crystal ran over his face would never fail to make anyone look sexy. Even someone like Seonghwa.

He lowered his foot into the stream, goosebumps springing up over his skin as he was submerged up to his ankle and the cuffs of his jeans were soaked through. It was cold but refreshingly so. Beautifully so. He loved the sensation of water trickling through his toes and smooth stones beneath his feet.

Shivers had already started to dominate his muscles but he reached out a hand nonetheless, dipping his fingers into the shower and allowing the rivulets to flow down his arm. His T-Shirt was too thin to provide any kind of protection but he didn’t care.

He was lost in the power of this beauty. Maybe it was magic. Maybe sirens enjoyed cold waterfalls near college campuses. Maybe they were sucking him in and enchanting his mind but even if they were, he wouldn’t care. The water was soothing on his skin. The sound was music to his ears. Everything about this moment was too perfect for words.

He laughed.

He didn’t know why.

“Hwa? What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to slip.”

No, he wasn’t. Lord Poseidon wouldn’t let him slip. None of the other Gods had been particularly protective in the past but Seonghwa just knew Poseidon wouldn't let him down. He was invincible. The water made him invincible. If Hongjoong came and joined him beneath its torrent, he would feel it, too.

He was still laughing for reasons that he still didn’t understand and something Soobin once asked slipped into his head.

He'd been laughing then, too, and Soobin had just looked at him for a full minute before asking, _“Why is it that both joy and sadness can make people cry?”_

Seonghwa still couldn't answer that question even as he whipped away the tears that were now streaming down his reddened face.

There was the rustle of reeds as Hongjoong hurried up the bank towards him, an edge of concern to his voice as he called out again, “Hwa, seriously. Get back here. It’s freezing.”

Seonghwa shuffled closer to the rock face and flecks of spray began to pepper his face and neck. He closed his eyes and moved forwards again. The front of his shirt was already soaked and his hair was starting to drip onto his face but he couldn’t stop himself from taking another step onto one of the larger rocks.

“Seonghwa, you’re scaring me. Please get back here.”

He cupped his hands and held them out, watching them fill up before emptying them over his face and gasping at the icy sensation. He was almost drenched now, the water gushing over his chest and legs. His toes were already numb.

He laughed.

“Baby, please! Get down!”

Hongjoong had never called him ‘baby’. It brought a stab of warmth to his freezing body. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his boyfriend – his _baby_ – tearing off his jacket and preparing to wade in after him. Then they could share this wonderful experience together.

It suddenly occurred to him that he’d managed to climb slightly higher up the waterfall although he couldn’t remember ever initiating the motion to do so. There were only a couple more rocks to step on before he would reach the top.

He reached upwards.

“SEONGHWA!”

The terror in Hongjoong’s voice cut him to his very core and he whipped around to see what was causing him so much distress when there was something so very beautiful right in front of him, and that was when it happened.

His hand lost its grip, his body pitched to the side and his foot slid out from under him.

The slick sharp stone tore into his back, the side of his head connected with solid rock and he felt every bruise and bump that battered his body as he fell.

It couldn’t have been more than a six-foot drop but the momentum he gathered along the way made sure that when he landed face down in the stream with his nose and mouth submerged, he was out cold.

There was no laughing after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because nobody saw that coming


	12. Never Stop Loving

Seonghwa awoke to the same kind of hustle and bustle he’d grown accustomed to during his time at the psychiatric facility.

It was the kind of commotion that usually arose when a patient had a psychotic break during the night or when one of the plastic knives from the dinner cart went missing. That particular event happened often enough seeing as they were all diagnosed as officially crazy.

Nurses prodded and poked at his skin. Three doctors huddled by his head as they discussed his condition with bored detached expressions yet still with a sense of urgency in their voices that was just frantic enough for Seonghwa to know that whatever was happening was concerning. 

Doctors … Shit … That meant a hospital.

This was bad and to add insult to injury, Seonghwa realised there and then that he couldn’t feel a single one of his limbs. Or his face, for that matter. He knew his eyes were open but his lids felt about ten times too big and his nose was all stuffed up, making breathing a chore.

Sensation slowly began to return to his extremities and he was able to feel the needle burrowing under his flesh and the rubber clamp on the tip of his index finger. The lights above him were blindingly bright and the sheets below him were uncomfortable against the tingling of his skin.

A loud, long, high-pitched beeping sound screeched across the room and everything stilled for just a second before the doctors jumped into action.

“He’s coding!”

“Call the station, tell them to get a crash cart in and I want a PICC line on him, STAT!” one of the professionals shouted, sending a nurse scurrying off to do his bidding. “Measure 13ccs of … Hold on. Cancel the defib. One of the Holter’s monitors got undone.”

Another nurse reached across Seonghwa’s body and reattached one of the adhesive stickers to his chest. The beeping stopped, thank … Fuck, there had to be a God of silence but he had no idea who that would be.

“Oh, he’s awake.”

They seemed surprised which was worrying considering they were supposed to be paying attention to him if he was their patient.

“Hey, kid,” greeted a short doctor with thick glasses and a weird mole on the corner of his mouth as he leaned over the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“M’fine.” Seonghwa’s voice felt like it grated through his throat and when it finally fought its way to the tip of his tongue, it was rough as sandpaper.

“Do you remember what happened?”

He shook his head and immediately winced as a burst of plain flared across the backs of his eyes. Everything hurt. He was only just realising it now but everything _hurt._ The funny fuzzy sensation was probably a cut or a bruise on his back and his face was definitely swollen. His nose hurt, his head hurt, his chest hurt. 

“That’s okay if you don’t remember right away,” the doctor assured him. “You have a mild concussion, you’ve fractured the bridge of your nose and got yourself a little bit of hypothermia, too. Hell of a time to take a dip, son.” 

Needless to say, Seonghwa was confused.

He knew he’d been out somewhere with his friends and Hongjoong but the details were blurry. His head was a mass of cotton wool. He just wanted to go home, he was tired and everything wouldn’t just stop fucking hurting.

“I’ll let you rest now but I’ll be by later. We want to keep an eye on you to make sure all the fluid is out of your lungs and that the hypothermia won’t be an issue.”

“Uh … okay.”

The doctor gave him a strange look but then nodded and departed. A moment later, Mingi walked in, holding up a threatening finger as soon as he saw Seonghwa opening his mouth, but then the anger seemed to slide right off his face as he took in the true condition of his idiotic best friend.

“Okay … I’ll start by saying … you look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Seonghwa croaked, because he was sure Mingi wasn’t lying. He certainly felt like it.

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way … what the fuck, Hwa?” Mingi all but yelled, gripping the bed railing and narrowing his eyes into slits of apoplectic fury.

The only thing Seonghwa could think to say was, “Sorry?”

“You almost gave Yunho and I fucking heart attacks, I’m pretty sure Hongjoong had an aneurysm and all you have to say for yourself is ‘sorry’?”

Seonghwa blinked, “I’m … _really_ sorry?” 

Mingi shook his head and sighed, “What are we supposed to do with you, Hwa?”

He looked exhausted, as if he truly had narrowly escaped a heart attack, and Seonghwa was ashamed that the only thing he could do was shrug. And even that brought a grimace to his face as the pain worked its way across his shoulders as well as down his back and up his neck simultaneously.

“What happened?” he croaked once he’d managed to get his breath back. 

“You tried to go for a fucking swim in -2° weather, you almost drowned in a foot of water, your face is broken and you have a concussion. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know … I wasn’t … I can’t remember.”

The more he tried to recall the experience, the more his head hurt but there was a niggling in the back of his mind that gave him a seriously uneasy feeling about this whole conversation. Like there was something Mingi shouldn’t know and he wasn’t sure what it was or if it could slip out while they were talking.

Mingi pursed his lips, “Yeah, I get that.”

“Where the others?” Seonghwa pushed, wanting desperately to change the subject so that he wouldn’t have to remain the object of Mingi’s withering glare. 

“Yeosang’s at home helping Woo with San. Yunho and Joong are getting treated somewhere around here.”

“Treated?” Seonghwa blanched in a panic, bolting upright before his brain could fully process that it wasn’t supposed to do that just yet. “What happened to them?”

“Stay still,” Mingi hissed, pushing him gently yet firmly back down onto his pillows. “You have stitches in your back. Yunho’s fine. Just a few scrapes from dragging you off the rocks. And Joong’s okay, too. He went into the water after you and was there a while before we got there. He’s just warming up.”

Seonghwa let out the breath of relief he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and settled a little more comfortably against his fluffy mound of padding, “And San?”

“Just a headache. Apparently, he has them a lot.”

Without any further elaboration, Mingi’s face went all dark and sinister again, and Seonghwa knew that look was almost always reserved for him. He’d seen it often enough even with all the years they’d known each other.

“I just don’t get what you were thinking,” came the expected huff. “Usually, I’m the one doing stupid shit. Or at least Yunho.” 

Seonghwa would have shrugged again but he wasn’t particularly excited to revisit the pain from last time. Everything was so messed up and he was feeling both embarrassed and guilty. Yunho and Hongjoong had gotten hurt and Mingi looked like he was about to keel over because of him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he offered up pathetically. “I don’t remember, and I’m sorry I worried you guys.”

“Did you feel off before the hike? Like … _off-_ off?” Mingi asked, stressing his words to convey his meaning without speaking it into existence, but it was enough for Seonghwa to remember exactly what he wasn't supposed to say.

He’d just had a manic episode because he’d been off his medication and neither Mingi nor Yunho knew about it. There was definitely going to be hell to pay if they found out. All the more reason to keep it from them for as long as possible.

“Hey,” Jongho called as he stuck his head around the door, unwittingly offering Seonghwa an escape route. “Joong handled the fees so you can hold off on calling in Hwa’s parents.” 

“Thank fuck,” Mingi puffed out.

Jongho’s disapproving gaze roamed over Seonghwa before he continued, “We can’t stay. He’s just being observed overnight and we can come get him in the morning.”

Mingi looked like he was going to protest because, behind all the scolding, he would rather rip off every one of his fingernails than let Seonghwa out of his sight this soon after almost losing him – again.

“It’s just one night, Pinky,” the patient murmured, trying to soften the news by slipping Mingi’s childhood nickname in, but the boy still looked reluctant to leave. “I’ll be fine.”

At last, Mingi gave in, “I’ll get all your assignments emailed across. You probably won’t be able to go to class for a while.”

“Thanks.”

With one last look that was filled with regret and maternal-like concern, Mingi allowed Jongho to lead him from the room, and Seonghwa was left alone with no way to distract himself from the stabbing pains all over his body. 

\---------------------

“You’re a fucking idiot if you thought I wouldn’t notice.”

Seonghwa was rudely dragged from his haven of painless sleep by an annoying voice. _The_ annoying voice. With great difficulty, he managed to unstick his still-very-swollen eyelids and peer over at where Soobin had made himself comfortable in the plastic chair beside the bed.

The boy hissed as they made eye contact and Seonghwa wished he could come up with some snarky response. It really wasn’t that bad. He’d asked one of the nurses for a mirror a few hours ago when they’d come to wake him up and monitor him for his concussion.

At first glance, his black eyes and bloodied retinas were seriously off-putting. The lump on the bridge of his nose and the tape holding together the wound just below his hairline was unsightly and the bit of blood crusted across his split lip was unattractive but, all things considered, he didn’t look ugly enough for the face that Soobin was pulling. 

“Visiting hours ended a while ago,” he groaned, wriggling his nose against the uncomfortable plastic cannula they’d threaded beneath it.

“I called in a favour.”

“Lucky me.” 

“So you’re off your meds,” Soobin stated matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa had just enough presence of mind not to whip his head around to stare at him. It took a couple of seconds before he came down from the shock and spluttered out a shaky, “How did you even know I was here?”

“Heard your friends talking about you. Don’t worry. No one’s spreading rumours or anything. In fact, they’re covering for your absence quite well.” Soobin crossed his arms and reclined leisurely in his chair. “But back to the drugs. You know you shouldn’t be off them for long, Hwa. There’s a reason they’re prescribed to you.”

“Please …” Seonghwa moaned, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. “Just mind your own business.”

“You are my business,” came the counterattack. “I’m here for you, Seonghwa. I’m here because you need someone to be your voice of reason since you appear to be absolutely shit at doing it for yourself.”

“I’m doing fine without you,” Seonghwa snapped defensively, still without opening his eyes. “I have Hongjoong.”

“Kim Hongjoong – who tried to kill himself when you wouldn’t talk to him – convinced you to come off your prescribed medication and let you jump over the side of a waterfall.”

Okay, one thing he was not allowed to do was blame Hongjoong in this situation. Seonghwa had been the one to stop taking the pills and Seonghwa had been the one with the mind messed up enough to have him wading into the water in the middle of winter.

“Don’t do that. None of those things are his fault.”

“Seonghwa,” Soobin sighed. “Listen. The fact that we are having this conversation – the fact that I’m even here right now – means that you aren’t well and Hongjoong isn’t helping. I know he’s what you want. I know he’s sweet and kind and funny but you have to get help.”

Seonghwa would never – not in a hundred years – tell Soobin that he was right and, for the most part, he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about but in this moment, he was making valid points.

The medication was a necessity but he didn’t want to take it. He couldn’t keep allowing his stupid brain to ruin things for him and everyone else. The past few weeks had been so much better. Yunho had gotten more time to himself, Mingi had been on more dates with Yeosang, Seonghwa himself had made new friends. Everything had been so much better, but it was only a matter of time. 

His condition didn’t limit him just to manic euphoria, rambling thoughts, exaggerated friendliness and farfetched ideas. There was also the depression and the anxiety that would no doubt catch up with him soon enough. The exhaustion when his symptoms ran on for too long and the inevitable crash that would accompany it, and then the most feared problem of all:

The violent outbursts.

His anger was triggered far too easily and it would only take the slightest nudge to set him off. Sooner rather than later, somebody was going to piss him off and neither Hongjoong, Mingi nor Yunho would be around to calm him down. But, despite all of that …

“It’s different when I’m not on them,” he whispered into the quiet room, noticing belatedly that the world outside had gotten darker to make way for the moon.

“It would be,” Soobin responded softly. Almost as if he were sad. 

“When I’m on them, I’m confused about him and I … I question everything. I try to analyse every bit of us being together. I think too much. It’s all muddled … It feels different … but when I’m off them … it’s like the world is brighter. He’s brighter. He’s all I can think about and I don’t have to think as much. Everything is just so … clear. I feel like I can do anything.”

“That’s called mania, Hwa,” Soobin murmured. “And I get it. It feels good. The meds stabilise your mood and it’s hard to really feel love when you’re drugged but would you rather have it and end up hurting him or just be friends until you’re stable enough to handle a relationship?” 

“Friendship isn’t an option,” Seonghwa clapped back with a defeated huff through his broken nose. “It’s never been an option for us. I want to feel this, Soobin. I want to feel every moment of being with him.”

He couldn’t quite believe he was bearing his soul to a person he’d despised for months. That in itself should be a testament to how badly he wanted this. Needed this.

For years, he’d thought the distant feeling in his chest that had surfaced for Mingi, Yunho and his parents was love but now that he knows – now that he’s truly felt something this stronger – he never wanted to go back. 

He sniffed hard. He hadn’t even realised he’d started to cry. He was aware that doing so would just hurt his nose but he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’m sorry, Hwa …” Soobin breathed from beside the bed. “I really am.” 

\--------------------------

Sedatives were a beautiful thing. Not only did they take the edge off Seonghwa’s pain but they actually let him sleep. As in, proper sleep. As in, eyes closed, heart rate slowing, brain finally getting the opportunity to rest.

He couldn’t remember the last time his body had experienced something so wonderful. It was a shame that he had to wake up again and realise that he was still lying in a hospital bed with his face resembling a toddler’s paint palette.

Feeling his mind rousing itself from the depths of unconsciousness, Seonghwa opened his eyes and familiarised himself with the colourless tiles on the ceiling. The monitor was still beeping beside his bed and the nurses were still bustling around outside.

The only thing that was different was the person sitting in the chair beside him.

“Joong?”

His boyfriend’s head shot up like it was on a spring and what had before been a weary expression of dread and guilt blossomed into a smile of warmth and fondness. He shuffled a little closer to the bed and dropped his phone in favour of taking Seonghwa’s hand.

“Hi, baby,” he crooned, bringing the patient’s knuckles to his lips. “How are you feeling?”

That question was too complicated. He was feeling so many things that it would be impossible to put them into words and even if he managed it, Hongjoong would never be able to understand the onslaught of nonsense that flowed from his lips as a result.

So instead he just settled on, “Okay.”

Hongjoong looked good. Tired and a little teary-eyed, but good nonetheless. Seonghwa had been seriously worried that he’d sustained some kind of injury along with the dangerous decrease in his core temperature, but it didn’t seem that he had.

Not that that made any of this any better.

“What happened, Hwa?” Hongjoong whispered sadly. “What were you thinking? You scared the life out of me. I thought you were dying.”

Seonghwa allowed his swollen eyes to flutter closed for a brief second of self-composure before he returned them to their rightful place: gazing lovingly at the boy sitting at his side. He squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m okay now.”

“No, you’re not,” Hongjoong countered with a huff of bitter amusement. “Look at you, Hwa. It could have been so much worse and we can’t just pretend it never happened.”

That was exactly what Seonghwa wanted to do, though. Everything had been going so well. He’d felt so happy, so free and relaxed. Only now did he realise those were just the symptoms of his mania but, for a few weeks, he’d actually understood what it felt like to be alive.

If it hadn’t been for his impromptu splash in the waterfall, he might still be experiencing that now.

“I saw you fall,” Hongjoong continued as the first tear wriggled out from between his eyelashes. “By the time I got to you, you were unconscious and bleeding and I turned you over onto your back so that you wouldn’t be able to breathe in any more water but I wasn’t strong enough to drag you to the bank. There were so many rocks, I thought I was going to fillet you if I tried.”

Seonghwa had never felt so ashamed. The guilt was almost as uncomfortable as the stitches embedded in his flesh. Some part of him wished that Hongjoong would stop talking so that he wouldn’t have to hear about the terror and helplessness his boyfriend had felt because of him.

“There was nothing I could do but sit there with you. I couldn’t go for help because I had to keep your head above the water. I had to scream until the others heard me and even then, it took at least five minutes or so before they found us. Yunho carried you out and Mingi had to push down on your chest until you coughed up the water in your lungs and San was trying to keep me warm but the only thing I could think about was whether or not you were going to die because I wasn’t strong enough to save you.”

And that hit so much harder than anything else because it was exactly how Seonghwa had felt when he’d found Hongjoong unconscious on the bathroom floor. _I wasn’t strong enough to save you._

“I’m so, so sorry,” he croaked pathetically, tightening his grip on his boyfriend’s hand since that was the only thing he could do. “But none of this was your fault. Okay? You did nothing wrong.”

Hongjoong snorted, “Really? Because if I remember correctly, I was the one who suggested you go off your medication and I was the only one who knew that you weren’t taking it and so I was the only one who could have prevented this.”

Seonghwa understood that, in Hongjoong’s mind, it made sense, but it didn’t in his. The only finger here should be pointed at him. Hongjoong knew nothing about bipolar disorder and the consequences of leaving it untreated. There was no way he could have known what was going to happen.

It was Seonghwa’s condition. Seonghwa knew the risks. Seonghwa was the one who’d fucked up.

“Baby, look at me,” he pleaded, waiting until Hongjoong raised his watering eyes before he continued. “This wasn’t your fault. I never should have gone off the pills to begin with.” 

Hongjoong gave a weak little smile, expressing his gratitude at Seonghwa’s efforts to soothe him, and brought his other hand up so he could rub his thumb over the back of his boyfriend’s knuckles. He was so warm.

“You have to go back on them, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa breathed. “Or next time, we might not be so lucky.”

He was dangerous when he wasn’t medicated. Not just to himself but to others as well. When he was manic, he thought he was invincible and would probably end up jumping off a bridge after convincing himself he could fly. When he was depressed, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life.

And then there was the anger. He’d never seriously injured anyone before but he had punched a couple of orderlies during his time in the psych facility and would have stabbed a former classmate with a pair of scissors if Mingi hadn’t managed to wrestle him off.

He was bigger now. Stronger. Given the chance, he could do a lot more damage and he would never forgive himself if Hongjoong, Yunho, Mingi or any of the others got caught up in any of that.

“I love you,” he choked, his voice breaking as he thought about the promise he’d made all those weeks ago.

_Don’t ever tell me you love me if you’re drugged._

This was probably going to be his last chance before the chemicals were back in his system and he was just as doped up and zombified as he’d been when they met. The thought of not being able to feel this way – this blind devotion and absolute adoration – ever again terrified him to his very core.

“I love you, Kim Hongjoong.”

A tear slid down the side of his face and Hongjoong leaned forwards to wipe it away as he murmured a whispery weak, “I love you, too, Park Seonghwa.”

Their lips met like they’d never get the chance to again because maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe, once Seonghwa was fully medicated again, he wouldn’t want to engage in such intimate activities. Maybe he would break off their relationship altogether when he realised that he no longer felt the same way.

Hongjoong tried to pull away but Seonghwa cupped the back of his head and just drew him in closer. The other boy’s tears drizzled onto his face to mingle with his own but he didn’t want to let go. He would stay this way forever if it meant he never had to go back to being that loveless robot.

When their lips finally separated, they stayed less than an inch apart, foreheads connected and eyes closed, fingers threaded in one another’s hair. Apparently Hongjoong was feeling the same way: like this was a goodbye.

“I wish things were different,” he mumbled. “More than anything, I wish things were different.”

“Me, too.”

Hongjoong suddenly sat back in his chair, clutching at both Seonghwa’s hands and staring at him with a kind of desperation that would have been comical if it hadn’t been so sad.

“Then why can’t they be?” he demanded, voice hoarse from swallowing his emotions. “Why can’t we make them different?”

Seonghwa just blinked at him, bewildered, unsure what he was supposed to say or even what point Hongjoong was trying to get across.

“If you don’t take your meds, will that hurt you? As in, will you get ill just because you don’t have the drugs in your system?”

Seonghwa shook his head. The pills themselves wouldn’t cause him harm. It was the effect of not having them that could potentially put his life in danger. Had _already_ put his life in danger on more than one occasion.

“Then don’t take them,” Hongjoong begged, all puppy-dog eyes and pleading. “I’ll take care of you. If you get depressed, I’ll just lie in bed with you until you come out the other side, and if you get manic, I’ll stay with you every minute of every day to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. I won’t let you get hurt again. I promise. So please … please don’t stop loving me.”

It was heart-breaking. Agonising. Seonghwa could feel the tears gliding down his cheeks as he stared at this boy – the boy he would _never_ stop loving – and he couldn’t have put into words just how badly he wanted to obey him.

“I’m not worried about me,” he mumbled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of Hongjoong’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t care what happens to me. But if I don’t take them, I could have an outburst and if you got in the way, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from hurting you.”

“Yes, you would,” Hongjoong hissed fiercely. “You would never hurt me. You wouldn’t let yourself. I can calm you down. I can keep us both safe. I can handle the rage and the yelling, Hwa, but I can’t handle you not loving me anymore. I can’t. Please don’t make me do that.”

Seonghwa hiccupped through another sob. The offer was so tempting but he knew the risks. He could endure the depression and the suicidal thoughts so long as he could feel this overwhelming need to protect and nurture and cherish for the rest of his life. But if he snapped … If he got violent … There would be no coming back from that.

“Joong …”

“I’ll die!” Hongjoong blurted, taking one of Seonghwa’s hands in both of his and pressing it to his cheek as waves rolled down his face. “If you stop loving me, I’ll die. I know it’s selfish, Hwa, I know, but please … I can’t look at you every day and know that you don’t feel anything for me anymore. I can’t do it. It will kill me.”

By now, Seonghwa was in serious danger of drowning in his own snot and spit since his taped-up nose prevented him from breathing properly. He’d seen Hongjoong on the verge of death. He’d been on his pills back then and he’d still felt like the world was ending even though he couldn’t figure out why.

Hongjoong had to be happy. He was too good and too pure not to be granted every last treasure in the world. Seonghwa never would have thought that he would be the thing that brought about that happiness but now that he knew …

Hongjoong needed him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered. “I’m scared that I’ll hurt you. I’m scared that you’ll see me differently and then you won’t want me anymore.”

“I will never stop wanting you.” Hongjoong shook his head fervently. “Never. I don’t care. Whether drunk or sober, drugged, high out of your mind, manic depressive or anything in between … I will still love you. Remember?”

Seonghwa remembered. Seonghwa would forever remember.

The prospect of surrendering his mind to the power of his disorder was terrifying. The idea that he might one day be pushed too far and do something that would harm himself or someone he cared about was horrifying.

But the idea of not being able to know with perfect clarity that Kim Hongjoong was his soulmate was even worse.

“Let me protect you,” Hongjoong was whimpering on a loop. “Please, baby. Let me protect you.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” the boy blanched, a smile beaming with sunshine glinting through the sheen of devastation on his face. “You mean it? You’ll stay off the pills?”

Seonghwa could hear Soobin’s voice in his head, could practically feel the disapproving gaze from across the room, and yet he knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled Hongjoong’s mouth down onto his and whispered against his lips, “I’ll stay off the pills.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get crazy but don't worry. It'll all make sense in the end


	13. Furniture for Wrinkled Backsides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... whew chile  
> tw// ?? Idk anymore

Seonghwa had forgotten how this felt. 

Had he remembered, he probably wouldn’t have so readily agreed to stay off his meds, but he was committed to it now. There was definitely no going back. 

He’d had a few more days to pull himself together before he was expected to go back to class and behave like a fully-functioning member of society while pretending that he wasn’t slowly rotting away on the inside, but he hadn’t felt at all okay since leaving the hospital. He hadn’t voluntarily left his bed in days. 

Yunho and Mingi were convinced he was just sleeping off the last of the pain medication from the hospital. Seonghwa wished he could be so lucky. He wished it was just that. He wished he could even sleep at all. 

Instead, he lay flat on his back, wide awake and in pain for hours at a time, night after night, until somebody came in to drag him into the bathroom. Once there, he was forced to make his leaden tongue engage in polite conversation and convince his rusted joints to clean themselves. 

Then he had to crack his hardened facial muscles and splinter them into what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he convinced his friends that he was okay, that it was just a headache or his stitches pulling the wrong way and that he was sure he’d be back to normal in no time. 

He hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t have anticipated it, either. The depression always hit the hardest and the fastest and yet somehow, he never saw it coming. 

Every breath was far more effort than it was worth. Every miniscule twitch of a muscle made him want to scream. His chest was a gaping empty chasm. He was tempted to rap his knuckles on his sternum to see if it would make a hollow sound but that would take more energy than he was willing to put out. 

He closed his eyes on a deep exhale and rolled them under their lids, feeling the warm wetness of tears drizzling onto his cheeks. 

This was ridiculous. He would never know why he was subjecting himself to such torture. All he had to do was sit up and take two little pills. The bottles were mocking him from their place on the dresser, standing stark against the grainy monochrome film that blanketed his vision. 

If he just swallowed them down, this nightmare would end, but he knew why he couldn’t. He had to be strong. He had to get through this part and come out whole the other side because he’d promised Hongjoong to try and try he would. 

All the pain would be worth it in the end for Hongjoong. 

A light weight landed on his chest and he craned his neck to see Lord Boop sitting on his ribcage, licking his front paws and grooming himself as if he was just perched on a piece of furniture. A surprised huff of laughter forced its way from Seonghwa’s constricted throat because that seemed to be all that he was these days: a piece of furniture. Just lying around the dorm, doing nothing except existing. 

No wonder the poor cat was confused. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he croaked at the cat. “Okay, I get it. No need to be fucking rude.”

The creature stopped grooming long enough to give him a dirty look that was only amplified by its wrinkled forehead, before turning its back on him and resuming its daily bathing session. 

The folds and ripples in its backside were even more off-putting from this angle. 

“Lord Pan … buddy?” Seonghwa whispered at the ceiling. “I don’t know if you can hear me but … seriously? Hairless animals are weird and you need to cut that shit out.” 

Lord Boop sent him another withering glare before settling down to sleep on his chest. Just to spite him. Seonghwa let out a long sigh of exasperation and winced as the cat dropped its tail – deliberately ¬– onto his face, irritating his still-healing nose bridge. 

“Okay, that’s it.” 

Seonghwa sat up abruptly, causing the animal to tumble off his chest and onto his lap. It hissed at him and he hissed right back, “You’re in my fucking dorm room. Either grow some manners or fuck off.” 

“Wow … Screaming at a cat.” Hongjoong dropped his backpack at the door and kicked off his shoes. “I’m glad you at least have the energy for that.” 

“The evil little thing was being a dick,” Seonghwa defended, still glaring at Lord Boop. 

He could have sworn he could hear the fuck you in the way it swished its naked tail and made itself comfortable on the foot of his bed, bulging eyes staring right at him as if to say, ‘whatcha gonna do about it?’ 

Where did the thing even come from? Had Yeosang left it here? And where the fuck was it using the bathroom? 

Hongjoong climbed into the bed and Seonghwa instantly pulled him closer, inhaling the lingering chemical scent of paint, clay and fabric dye that had settled itself on his skin from his art class. 

“Do you feel any better?” he asked hopefully. 

Seonghwa hated that question because it meant he had to crush Hongjoong’s hopes every time he asked it, but they’d promised to be open about things. If Seonghwa couldn’t handle it, he had to say so, and if Hongjoong reached his limit in handling it, he had to say so, too. They would get nowhere by lying to each other right now. 

For the first time in a long time, Seonghwa actually had to voice his feelings, and he was sure Hongjoong wasn’t particularly experienced in paying enough attention to someone that he would catch their tells even before his two best friends and a psych major could. 

“Not really, but the cat annoyed me enough to get up.” 

“Do you think you can eat? Just a little? You have to eat to get better.” 

Seonghwa knew that, but his stomach just wouldn’t keep any food inside it. They’d tried everything. Mingi had brought home a case of supplement drinks after the first day and a half of Seonghwa vomiting his guts up every time he tried to take a bite, but Wooyoung and San were getting more use out of them than anyone else. 

San’s headaches were becoming progressively worse. Seonghwa had heard from Mingi that they were the reason why he’d started smoking in the first place: to deal with the pain. Wooyoung just did it to keep him company. Devoted, as ever, even in drug use. 

Seonghwa shook his head, already feeling nauseous at the thought. 

“That’s okay,” Hongjoong mumbled understandingly. “We’ll try later.” 

He sat up and pulled open the bedside drawer in which he’d started stashing some of his drugs, hidden behind Seonghwa’s prescription pills, loose change and various face creams that had accumulated over the years. 

His fingers withdrew, a small bag of white powder pinned between them – Seonghwa hadn’t gotten around to asking about that one yet – and tapped a bump onto the back of his hand. 

It had been some time since he’d started using in front of Seonghwa, but he was usually very discreet about it. He’d said he was used to sneaking off because Yeosang was still oblivious as the male lead in almost every drama on television, but he must have grown comfortable enough if he was being so blatant now. 

Seonghwa watched as he snorted the powder and licked the residue off his skin, eyes tearing up a little as he rubbed his nose on the back of his sleeve. He caught Seonghwa staring and smiled. 

“Put some clothes on.” 

Seonghwa glanced down at the hoodie and sweats that Jongho had picked out for him after his mandatory shower that morning. Sure, it wasn’t a three-piece suit but it was probably the best that anyone was going to get out of him for a while. 

“Why?” he whined. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and slithered out of bed so he was in a better position to pull his boyfriend out from beneath the covers, “Just do it. Get some shoes and a jacket. I want to show you something.”

He couldn’t say he was exactly thrilled at the prospect and he certainly groaned enough to make his reluctance known but, nevertheless, Seonghwa stomped on some boots and wrestled his arms into his jacket sleeves. He forwent the complete change of clothes.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to care either way. He had a loopy half-grin on his face as he tugged his boyfriend through the living room, waving hastily to a studying Yunho as they passed. 

It was already dark outside and snowing lightly, which only served to remind Seonghwa why he didn’t want to be out there. It was cold and wet. His bed was warm. Even with Lord Boop’s petty presence, it was a better place to be than freezing his ass off out here. 

“Come on, come on,” Hongjoong chivvied, hauling him toward the far corner of the student parking lot where a little two-door sports car sat, steadily collecting snow. “Do you like it?” 

He was still grinning madly and Seonghwa knew it was the coke in his system but he couldn’t help the way his heart gave a few thumps against his ribcage and melted in his chest to signify that it really was still there despite how unresponsive it had been recently. 

Even after days of wasting away in bed, he was still here, and this precious little human in front of him was real and he loved him and suddenly life didn’t seem quite as daunting. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and he wasn’t talking about the car. 

“I know. I got her today. Get in.” 

“Can you even drive?” 

“Sure, I can. Get in.” 

“You just did coke, Joong.” 

Hongjoong let out a derisive pfft, flapping his hand as if that was the most nonsense he’d ever heard and pressed the key fob to unlock the doors. 

“Get in,” he repeated for the third time, dropping himself into the front seat. 

It was reckless. Dangerous. Just plain stupid. Zeus was probably face-palming so hard right now but Seonghwa didn’t care. All he saw was the way Hongjoong’s eyes twinkled in the lights that reflected off the dashboard, the way his smile split his face, the way his tiny hands gripped the steering wheel, and he knew he would follow him into a burning building if he had to.

The journey was short but long enough for Seonghwa to learn that Hongjoong was a horrible driver. He ran lights, he went too fast even with the ice-slicked roads and he looked as if he could barely see over the dash, but then again, Seonghwa’s grandmother was smaller and she drove just fine. 

The car finally stopped – calling it parking would be too generous – at the side of the road, just short of an incline.

It was a bridge. No scenery, no mountains to look up at, no rivers to gaze down on. Just a bridge built from grey stone and soggy half-rotting wood that arched over a crevice of dried mud that may have once carried flowing water. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong encouraged, practically tumbling out of the car in his excitement to get going. 

Seonghwa’s boots crunched across the snow as he followed Hongjoong, just like he always did, down the slope and over to the underside of the structure. Beneath it, the ground was relatively dry and they were sheltered from the snow, only a couple of flakes managing to ride the wind towards them. 

“I can’t believe I risked my life for you to drive me to a bridge,” Seonghwa huffed as he made himself comfortable next to where Hongjoong was already sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. 

“Here. Sip this. It will keep you warm.” 

He looked at the bottle that Hongjoong was holding out to him, its contents not too dissimilar to that of grape juice. He still didn’t think he could stomach much of it but he was a little cold and he trusted Hongjoong’s judgement. Even if he was high out of his mind. 

He swallowed a mouthful and a pleasant warmth started to spread through his chest. The tightness of the day eased into nothingness as more of the bitter purple syrup slid down his throat. He smacked his lips against the tangy taste and leaned back against the brickwork. 

It tasted exactly like what he imagined the colour purple would taste like. 

“Better?” 

“I guess,” he rasped, and Hongjoong smiled triumphantly. 

He scooted a little closer to lay his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, “I used to come here all the time when I was younger. My parents don’t live too far. It’s the only reason my dad allowed me to attend the art programme.” 

“You’re like a celebrity at school for your art,” Seonghwa stated. “I’ve never been to any of the shows. They seemed pretentious. But I’ve seen your work and it’s gorgeous.” 

“It’s all I ever wanted to do. It’s all I would do. When I was sober enough, I painted, I drew, tore up old clothes and doodled on my shoes.” Hongjoong chuckled dryly. “My dad hated it.” 

Seonghwa linked an arm around his shoulders, “Can I ask you something?” 

Hongjoong settled back against his chest, “Anything, baby.” 

They sat in silence for a little while before Seonghwa managed to gather the courage to voice his inquisition. 

“Why do you still do it? Why haven’t you tried to get clean? I know why you started but why not try to stop when it’s so dangerous for your health?” 

Hongjoong seemed to think it over for a moment. Then he sighed. 

“It’s because it’s easier than reality. I’m rich and popular, I’m doing a major I love instead of something practical because I don’t need to secure a future. I drive fancy cars and buy expensive clothes. I can do what I want as long as it doesn’t affect my father’s business … but I only really have three true friends, I’m not smart enough to do another major and growing up with shitty parents does a number on your self-worth.” 

“So you kept doing drugs?” 

“Yeah. It’s not that different from what you do. You can’t handle life on your own. You need the extra help and so do I. The only difference is that I do it to myself and you let other people do it for you.” 

Seonghwa thought it over. Although it most definitely wasn’t the same thing, he could see how the comparison made sense. Neither of them was good at life and both of them needed drugs in order to cope. So why was Seonghwa the only one not taking them? 

“Hey … How do you feel? I read that fresh air and stuff helps boost your seraphim.” 

“Serotonin.” 

“Same difference.”

Hongjoong seemed to be mellowing out from his high, his head resting heavier against Seonghwa’s chest. 

“You’re going to have to let me drive back,” Seonghwa told him.

“Sure, but you didn’t answer the question.” 

“It’s not that easy, Joongie. I don’t feel like I’m going to fall off the face of the earth right now but I’m still not shitting candies.” 

Hongjoong snorted in amusement, “We’ll work on that. I told you I’d help you through this and maybe I’m not some kind of drug but I’ll try my best to have you shitting candy soon.” 

\------------------------

Seonghwa awoke to warmth, both in front of him and behind. The sensation was familiar and pleasant and he hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed these moments.

The bed was far too small for all three of them to comfortably fit but Mingi had his face buried in Seonghwa’s chest and Yunho was clinging to him from behind and it had been so long since he’d woken up like this. He loved these two.

When they were younger, they’d slept this way all the time. Sleepovers, camping trips and family vacations always ended up with them tangled together on one bed, even when they all grew too big.

It was Yunho who started it. Mingi would often fall asleep somewhere else and then make his way over at some point during the night but Yunho almost always crawled under Seonghwa’s blankets as soon as the lights went out.

He was thirteen when he first knew he loved Yunho. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was but he found himself wanting that boy all to himself. He loved being alone with him or just sleeping with his face pressed into his warmth, and Yunho seemed to share the sentiment.

Yunho had also been his first kiss. It was an awkward press of lips that tasted of candy and smelt of axe body spray and they’d laughed about it afterwards but it was then that Seonghwa realised he only ever loved him as a friend. Even so, he’d still find himself snuggled close to the giant human puppy at any chance he got.

It felt nice to wake up like this: with a smile on his face and warmth deep in his bones and his best friends as close to him as possible. He grinned sleepily as Mingi nuzzled further into his chest and made a soft snorting sound.

Seonghwa vaguely remembered getting a semi-conscious Hongjoong back to the dorms last night. Jongho had carried him up the stairs to his own dorm and returned with a yell of ‘thank fuck’ as he finally got settled in his own bed for the night while Yunho helped Seonghwa change into something warm and dry before snuggling under the covers with him.

He had no idea when Mingi had decided he was lonely enough to join them but, at some point, his overly large frame and gangly limbs had sandwiched Seonghwa between him and Yunho. 

Seonghwa wasn’t a small guy. He was above average height, his shoulders were wide, his arms and muscles were somewhat toned, but Yunho and Mingi were both bigger, taller, broader and Seonghwa always felt like he could just let go when he was with them. 

Yunho’s arm tightened around his middle, drawing him closer.

“You awake?” he mumbled into the back of Seonghwa’s head.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been kinda out of it lately.” His voice had a certain edge to it but Seonghwa couldn’t tell if it was concern or suspicion. “Anything I should know?”

“No, I’m fine. Well … not _fine,_ but I’m getting there.”

It was best to at least try to tell the truth with Yunho. He could sniff out a lie in a heartbeat anyway. Seonghwa’s sleepy smile remained on his face as he felt his friend dropping a kiss into his hair. He’d missed this.

An alarm went off somewhere in the room and all three of the bed’s occupants let out a groan of protest.

“What day is it?” Mingi slurred, still without opening his eyes. “Can I graduate yet?”

“You still have five years ahead of you, Dr Song,” Yunho chuckled as he reached across Seonghwa to ruffle the boy’s locks. “You’re pre-med. You haven’t even chosen what you’re going to specialise in.”

“Nuhuh. I’m quitting med. I’m gonna be a K-Pop idol.”

Seonghwa scoffed, “You can’t even sing.”

“Yeah, but I can rap and I’m sexy as fuck.” 

“Says who?”

“Says my mum.”

“I find it very hard to believe that your mother calls you ‘sexy’.”

“It won’t matter if I can’t sing. I’m fucking beautiful,” Mingi continued to rant in that fatigued lisp that Seonghwa found so endearing. “That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m going to be an idol rapper and none of you can stop me.”

“Okay, but I think you should at least wait until the end of the semester.”

“Fine.” 

Seonghwa squeezed him in the tightest of hugs before abruptly kicking him off the bed because it was too crammed now that they were all awake.

When the three of them emerged into the kitchen, the usual suspects were already gathered there.

“Do you not have breakfast in your own dorm?” Seonghwa questioned them.

“Your stuff tastes better,” Wooyoung defended at once. “Plus, Yeosang swears by Jongho’s pancakes.”

“I’m not making any fucking pancakes!” Jongho shouted in a voice that was far too loud considering they were all sitting in a 600 square foot dorm. 

“You were right, Sangie,” Wooyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “You definitely are the angel of the family.”

Yeosang shrugged, “Told ya.”

“Angel?” Mingi snorted. “Yeosang isn’t an angel. Actually, just yesterday, he stole a – Ow! Fuck!”

This time it was a small cat toy that struck him in the face and everybody looked to Jongho even though both his hands were wrapped securely around a coffee mug.

“What?” he argued. “It wasn’t me.”

He gestured towards Yeosang who was sitting on his hands and looking like the picture of innocence with his hair pinned back in a ponytail, his oversized white sweater falling off one shoulder and his feet clad in fluffy pink socks that perfectly matched Lord Boop’s.

At this point, Mingi really should have learned better than to try exposing his boyfriend’s secret behaviours. 

“Children,” Hongjoong muttered as he circled the kitchen counter with two cups of fresh coffee. When he was close enough, he passed one to Seonghwa and then reached up on his tiptoes to kiss him, whispering a soft, “You’re cute in the morning.”

The moment was ruined by a strangled sound coming from a Wooyoung-therly direction, followed swiftly by San’s exhausted sigh of, “Let it go, babe.”

“ _I’m_ cute in the morning! Me! I’m the cute one!”

“You’re the cutest, baby,” San tried to appease, his eyes barely open as he dragged his hand down his boyfriend’s back.

“Then why is Joong over there calling Hwa ‘cute’ when he clearly looks like he’s just been through the wringer?”

“Are you coming back to class today?” Hongjoong asked, ignoring the couple on the couch.

Seonghwa took a sip of the coffee and grimaced at the bitterness. It was almost too hot to actually taste but the lingering flavour wasn’t pleasant. If Hongjoong hadn’t made it for him, he would throw it out and make another with a lot more milk in.

“Not yet, but I have to go to the library to get out one of the texts.”

“I’ll go with you,” Mingi called over from where he sat with Yeosang in his lap, voice muffled by a mouthful of buttered toast. Jongho stared with disapproval, sipping judgmentally on his coffee. “I should get all my books returned before I start my new career.”

“I’m going to hate myself for asking,” Hongjoong groaned. “But what new career?”

“I’m going to be a K-Pop star.” 

“Yeah … No, I’ve had enough of you all for the day,” Jongho announced, pouring the rest of his coffee into a thermos and shouldering his bag before promptly leaving the room.

“He’s just jealous,” Yeosang soothed, combing his fingers through Mingi’s dishevelled hair. “You’d be a great K-Pop star, babe.”

“No!” Wooyoung shrieked indignantly. “I’m ‘babe’! He can’t be ‘babe’!”

“Babe,” San moaned, tugging the boy back down beside him on the couch. “Seriously …”

“Fucking children.”

\--------------------------

The library was emptier than Seonghwa had expected but he was thankful to have a moment to breathe and actually be in public without people constantly staring at him.

“Hey, hold on,” Mingi whispered from behind him. “I have to pick up a few of those books here.”

They were standing in the health section, which wasn’t uncommon for Mingi, but _The_ Song Mingi willingly looking at a book was certainly a novelty.

“What are you searching for?” Seonghwa asked him.

“Anything on headaches.”

“Is it for San?”

“Yeah. It gets pretty bad some days.”

“Do you know what’s causing them?” Seonghwa murmured distractedly, scanning the row of book spines as if he had any idea which one to choose. “It seems like they’re getting more frequent.”

Mingi exhaled slowly and then glanced around to make sure that they weren’t going to be overheard, “I think San could be really sick but he doesn’t want to go to a hospital.”

His voice dropped in volume as he spoke until he was barely whispering, something that Seonghwa – until this very moment – had thought was outside the realm of possibility. Other than Wooyoung, Mingi defined the word ‘noise’.

“Sick like what?”

Mingi jerked his chin towards a guy who passed them before tugging Seonghwa further down the row of shelves, “Okay, you didn’t hear it from me …”

“Where else would I have heard it, Mingi? You’re the group gossip.”

“Not the point.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but gestured for Mingi to continue anyway. He had no clue why the boy was being so secretive but he seemed hellbent on not letting any of this information fall into enemy hands. Or whatever.

“Okay, so … San used to get these headaches, right? And he went to get it checked out and it turned out to be a tumour.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“They do the biopsy and it’s benign so they stitch him up, give him pain killers and send him home. Anyway, it turns out San got a call from one of the doctors asking him to come back in so they can run some tests since they think they’ll have to remove the growth before it gets to his medulla. San almost didn’t make it through the surgery because part of it was already pressing on his cerebellum.”

What Seonghwa knew about the map of the human brain was vastly limited but even he could tell that a steadily expanding brain tumour – even if it wasn’t cancerous – was a very serious affliction.

It seemed that he wasn’t the only one in their social group with a twisted medical history.

“So,” Mingi continued, pulling Seonghwa closer still. “He finally gets out of surgery and recovery, but then the headaches start up again and he just never went back. Woo said he tried to convince him a million times but he wouldn't listen.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Almost three years since the symptoms started up again. Maybe if it was dangerous something would have happened already but being pre-med made me a little paranoid. Sue me.”

His fingers finally landed on the book he could use and he excused himself to go and check it out with the librarian.

“That sounds like a wild ride for Sannie.”

Seonghwa turned around but he was already expecting to see Soobin emerging from behind one of the shelves, looking a little sheepish at having eavesdropped despite exposing himself.

“I didn’t mean to overhear.” 

“You know … Sometimes, I ask myself if you truly are my least favourite person in the world but then I see you and it reassures me that yes … Yes, you are my least favourite person in the world and also the worst human being to have ever lived.”

“Um … Hitler? Jim Jones? Ed Gains?”

“Two great leaders and possibly the most creative serial killer to ever live … Yeah, you’re much worse.”

“Ouch,” Soobin chuckled, and Seonghwa had to hand it to him. If nothing else, the boy was resilient.

“So what brings you to my orbit today?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Once again, a conversation with you has wasted my time.”

He couldn’t for the life of him begin to comprehend why Soobin insisted on bothering him so often. Seonghwa had tried so many different ways to repel him and none of them seemed to have worked.

“Well, you know I can go away,” the boy said with dead seriousness.

Seonghwa huffed, “Would you really?”

“Well, I can’t say it would be for good, but it would be for long enough to keep you out of the looney bin.”

And what the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“What are you even talking about?” Seonghwa hissed, glaring up at the bane of his existence and trying to figure out how he could possibly vaporise someone with sheer mindpower alone.

“You know why I’m here, Seonghwa,” Soobin continued with that same infuriatingly cryptic expression. “You know why I’m always here, always in your face and always in your business and you know exactly how to get rid of me. You’re just choosing not to. Why is that?”

“Trust me. If I knew how to get rid of you, I would.”

“But you do know, Hwa.”

“A gun?” Seonghwa joked dryly. “Killing people is against the law.”

“Hwa …”

“I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Who are you talking to?” came Mingi’s bewildered inquisition from where he was standing at the end of the row, just a few feet behind Seonghwa. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

“No one.”

“Yeah, I can fucking see that,” his friend hissed at him as he approached, and Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder to see Soobin already strolling leisurely down the passageway of shelves. “What the hell are you doing, Hwa?”

“Goddamn it, Soobin.” Seonghwa had to resist the urge to yell at the boy’s retreating back. “You’re going to make me look like I’m crazy.”

“Soobin?” Mingi echoed, peering around the structure to try and catch a glimpse of the infamous irritant. “Your old roommate?”

Seonghwa wished that was all he was, “Yeah, he always runs off whenever other people try to talk to me. He clearly doesn’t like to share my attention.”

Mingi hummed absently before releasing yet another breath of hot air, “I got your book when I went up front. Let’s go.”

For some reason, Seonghwa felt like a disobedient little kid as he followed Mingi back through the halls towards the library entrance. His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he fished it out to see with a sigh of exasperation that Soobin had been the one to message him.

_You know how to get rid of me, Hwa._

Seonghwa shoved the device back into his jeans and tried to ignore the way it burned against his upper thigh, wondering when he had ever saved Soobin’s name in his phonebook. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the shit storm is never-ending


	14. Neutralise The Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// Violence

Seonghwa went back to school the following week. He’d thought it would take so much longer for him to be able to drag his failing body back into that lecture hall or even just out of the dorm room but he was dangerously close to failing all his classes and that was all the motivation he needed.

Motivation. He hadn’t thought that word was even in his dictionary.

He was terrified of jinxing it but he was starting to believe that he may be breaching the last few layers of his depressive episode. His appetite was improving little by little, his limbs no longer felt quite as heavy when he tried to move and he’d even managed to laugh –  _ really  _ laugh – at one of Wooyoung’s jokes.

Yunho was still being overprotective but after Mingi had agreed to stagger Seonghwa’s return to civilian life by slowly increasing the amount of activity he partook in, he’d backed off a little. Jongho, however, was a different story. For some reason, he always seemed to have a look of disapproval on his face.

It was irritating to say the least. Seonghwa adored all three of them but he couldn’t understand why they were  _ still  _ insisting on treating him like he was a bomb about to explode at any moment. Sometimes he had to bite back the urge to snap every time he saw one of them sending him in a snide glare.

But he had Hongjoong and Hongjoong was all he was ever going to need. His world revolved around Hongjoong, his life was brighter with Hongjoong in it, he wouldn’t have ever made it this far without Hongjoong.

Hongjoong had been the one to suggest he stop taking the meds and, he had to admit, it had been torturous and bleak for a long time but now he was coming out the other side and Hongjoong was there, waiting with arms open.

“I love you,” Seonghwa had told him just the other day, gazing fondly down at the tiny angel who was lying on his chest. “I’ve told you that, right?”

“Not enough,” Hongjoong teased, propping his chin on Seonghwa’s sternum and grinning up at him. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

The days were starting to feel distinct again. They weren’t all blurring together in one blended time lapse where he couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. They were individual and perfect and, most importantly, filled with Hongjoong.

Each morning, he woke up and the first thing he saw was golden skin, glossy eyes and a smile that melted every defensive barrier he’d ever built up around himself in an attempt to keep the world at bay.

Hongjoong was his saving grace. His heaven. His everything. It was hard to believe they’d only known each other a little over three months. He made him a fresh cup of coffee every morning and it still tasted bitter but Seonghwa didn’t mind so much when he rose up on his tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose.

He also provided the necessary distractions so that Seonghwa could discreetly flush his daily dosage down the toilet. At first, he’d felt guilty about deceiving his roommates but now he knew it was for the better. Those pills had never worked anyway.

This … Whatever  _ this  _ was … It was working.

It always took him about half an hour or so to wake up but at least that meant he was sleeping again and he was usually feeling the warm fuzziness by the time he was on his way to his first lecture. Hongjoong held his hand, they walked side by side, they giggled as Wooyoung declared his jealousy from behind them and San audibly rolled his eyes.

And Seonghwa felt happy. Sure, he had his moments, particularly when he awoke in the middle of the night with his thoughts racing and his heart in his throat or when Yunho was being just a little  _ too  _ overprotective, but then he would get these flashes of euphoria and, for the first time, it wasn’t because of his disorder.

He wasn’t manic. He wasn’t spiralling. He was just … happy.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when the rain beat against the windows and the sky was a thick murky grey that Seonghwa was lying flat on his back on the floor, one hand beneath his head as he gazed lovingly up at where Hongjoong was sat cross-legged beside him.

It was a beautiful view. He could stay here for hours. Every time Hongjoong’s eyes drifted down to him, he smirked self-consciously and handed Seonghwa the thermos of coffee, almost as if he was trying to give him something to do other than stare and smile.

Seonghwa found a way, though, to sip on the caffeine without sitting up or taking his attention off his now red headed boyfriend. It was like a game to see how many times he could make Hongjoong’s cheeks match his hair and puff out a fond chuckle. Every time he did, it felt like the rain stopped falling. 

“Okay, next,” Wooyoung demanded.

He was mirroring Hongjoong, legs crossed over the cheap rug, but Seonghwa couldn’t see him from the angle at which he was lying. The only thing he  _ could  _ see was the only thing he  _ wanted  _ to see.

Hongjoong shuffled the cue cards in his hands and pulled out a pale purple one, deep brown eyes scanning the cursive letters he’d inked onto the paper before he opened his mouth and read it out loud.

“What earth mineral pigments were …?”

Seonghwa reached up from his place on the floor and poked playfully at Hongjoong’s bottom lip, causing him to adorably stumble over his words as he choked out a laugh and shot a narrow-eyed gaze downwards.

“As I was saying,” he continued, pointedly nudging Seonghwa in the ribs with his foot. “What earth mineral …?”

Seonghwa did it again and this time Hongjoong swatted at his hand, letting out a little whine of protest, “Baby, I’m trying to study.”

“Yeah, Hwa,” came Wooyoung’s indignant echo from out of sight. “We’re trying to study. Can’t you stop being so whipped for, like, an hour?”

Without taking his eyes off his boyfriend’s face, Seonghwa held up his middle finger. Wooyoung was the one who needed to study, not Hongjoong, and so it was Wooyoung’s fault that Seonghwa was having to share his baby’s attention.

It was a good day. He was feeling good. Warm. Fuzzy. He wanted to cuddle, kiss and tease, not just lie on an itchy carpet and watch Hongjoong read from a cue card, no matter how hot that boy could make it look.

“Let’s try this again then.”

Seonghwa’s hand was already off the floor but Hongjoong grabbed it and pinned it against his thigh, turning away from any further attempts to sabotage the study session and holding up the card so that he could read without having to worry about a bored and playful boyfriend.

“What mineral pigments were used for coloured cave art designs?”

“The fuck if I know,” Wooyoung retorted. “Is that even on the course?”

Hongjoong shrugged, “It’s on mine. So what’s the answer?”

“No clue.”

“Oh, come on. Try.”

“I am trying! And I don’t know! Just tell me.”

“No, you have to guess.”

Wooyoung lunged for the card and Hongjoong let out a squawk of shock, falling backwards onto the floor and holding the target at arms’ length as Wooyoung tried to scrabble for it. They were both laughing but the only thing Seonghwa could feel was irritation.

San was right behind them, lying across the couch cushions and dozing off the after-effects of yet another headache. Did Wooyoung really have to be so flirtatious all the time? And with  _ Seonghwa’s  _ boyfriend? While his  _ own  _ boyfriend was in the same room?

Honestly, Wooyoung never messed around with Yeosang or Mingi or Yunho. He teased Jongho but that was just because he enjoyed seeing the youngest’s reactions. It was always Hongjoong, and Seonghwa understood that they’d been friends for a long time, but Hongjoong had a boyfriend now.

Surely, he should know better than to be rolling over the floor with another guy.

“Hey, Woo!” he called out before he could stop himself. “If you’re that horny, there are websites you can go to.”

The two of them sat up, giggling slowly petering to a stop, Wooyoung’s leg still thrown over Hongjoong’s stomach. The atmosphere had suddenly gone from fun and playful to awkward and uncomfortable but Seonghwa was just happy that his man was no longer lying under someone else.

From behind, there was a bleary mumble of, “I’m better than any website.”

Clearing his throat, Wooyoung moved back to his original position with a forced smile and a soft, “Course you are, babe” and Hongjoong shuffled back over to Seonghwa’s side. 

His cheeks were a little red and his hair was askew and Seonghwa grabbed hold of his hand just to make sure that Wooyoung knew who he belonged to.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa nodded and kissed him, wet and loud, on his lips to further stake his claim.

“Joong,” San croaked. “Can you grab me a glass of water?”

“Sure.”

Hongjoong shuffled over to the sink and Seonghwa heaved himself up into a sitting position to roll the knots from his shoulders and crick his neck. He’d been lying on the floor without a pillow for quite a while. From across the room, the whispering gush of water struck to the bottom of the basin, accompanied by the clatter of Hongjoong rummaging for a glass.

“Hey,” Wooyoung breathed, drawing Seonghwa’s attention. San had gone back to sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa grunted back, shifting with poorly-concealed discomfort. “I just don’t like it when your hands are all over my boyfriend.”

Wooyoung looked like he’d choked on thin air, “I-I’m sorry, what?”

As if he didn’t know. That was what was truly infuriating: the fact that Wooyoung was treating him like he was stupid, like he hadn’t noticed how inappropriately touchy-feely he was being. If San was conscious right now, he’d probably be just as annoyed. Now that Seonghwa really thought about it Wooyoung really had been around more now that San was like this.

“You heard what I said,” Seonghwa grumbled.

Hongjoong made his way back across the room, handing the glass to Wooyoung so that he could cup one hand beneath San’s head and raise it just high enough off the cushions for him to take a sip. 

If Seonghwa wasn’t so invested in linking his arm possessively around Hongjoong’s shoulders, he would have felt sorry for that boy.

San’s headaches were getting more frequent and more intense. Even smoking a joint wasn’t helping with the pain like it had before and sometimes he got so weak that he could barely lift his eyelids.

No wonder Wooyoung was starting to latch on to other men.

They continued to study in complete seriousness. No more jokes, no more wrestling. Seonghwa rested his head against Hongjoong’s shoulder, arm still around him, and followed the questions that his baby read off the card.

Occasionally, he would chance a glance across at Wooyoung but he was keeping his eyes as far away from them as possible, trying to look like he was just wracking his brain for the answers but probably too wary of getting his head bitten off yet again.

Seonghwa’s phone vibrated at one point and he gave it a brief once-over to see Soobin’s unwelcome number flashing up on the screen above a single-sentence text that made absolutely no sense.

_ Remember to breathe _

__

Seonghwa tossed his phone aside. He was with Hongjoong right now. He had no time for Soobin’s weirdly-placed concern.

Jongho was in the bedroom, music blasting through his headphones as he poured over his psychology textbooks because, in his words, ‘I can’t study in here! There’s too much love!’. Yunho was off somewhere working on a group project and Mingi and Yeosang were occupying the other dorm for reasons that were fairly self-explanatory.

That was what made it so awkward when Hongjoong got up to use the bathroom roughly forty-five minutes later.

San was still out cold and Wooyoung was silently stewing, aimlessly fiddling with the cue cards as an excuse not to have to look at Seonghwa. And Seonghwa would have been perfectly happy staying that way until Hongjoong came back but, alas, Wooyoung was not.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” he hissed at last after losing whatever internal battle he’d been waging with his mind. “Hands all over your boyfriend? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Why not?” Seonghwa growled back. This guy was starting to seriously piss him off with his blatant refusal to admit his promiscuity. “You think I haven’t noticed how close you’re being with Joong now that San’s getting sicker?”

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped.

“You … You …” He looked like he’d been struck dumb. “You bastard … How can you even … What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Seonghwa merely gave a derisive snort and got to his feet so he could refill his coffee thermos. He supposed he should have anticipated Wooyoung to follow him into the kitchenette, voice low so as not to disturb San but still laced with fury.

“You know what you are, Mars?” he spat, and there were tears in his eyes as they flickered over to where his boyfriend lay, still unconscious, on the couch. “You’re poison. You can’t live without attention so you manipulate everyone around you because that’s the only way you can feel like you’re worth something. You don’t care that you’re dragging your friends down. You don’t care that you’re bad for Joong. You’d –”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa snapped with as much anger in his tone as he could muster. 

It was all he could do not to deck Wooyoung in the face right there and then. 

“What the fuck would you know about what’s right for Joong? He loves me. He needs me. And  _ I’m  _ the one who can’t live without attention? Have you taken a look in the fucking mirror lately?”

He was so angry. So, so angry. He couldn’t remember ever being this angry. How dare this snivelling little brat suggest that he wasn’t worthy of Hongjoong’s love? How dare he infer that he would ever do anything to hurt the most important person in his life?

“No.  _ You _ need  _ him _ . There’s a difference, Mars, and you should learn it before you do something that you won’t be able to gloss over. I would die a thousand times over for San and you think you have the right to question my devotion to him? You think you have the right to tell me that I’m cheating on him while he’s sick? At least I’m not using him to fill whatever hole exists in my life because my mind is too fucked up to feel anything but hostility!”

Seonghwa lurched forwards, lip curled and hands already balled into fists but Hongjoong got there first. He came from nowhere, inserting himself in between the two and using one hand to push Wooyoung backwards while the other came up to caress Seonghwa’s face.

“Look at me,” he breathed. “Look at me, baby. You don’t want to do this. Come back to me. Take deep breaths. Come on. Breathe.” 

He had both hands on Seonghwa’s cheeks now but it was hard to focus on what he was saying when Wooyoung was crossing his arms and rolling his eyes just a few feet away. If Hongjoong wasn’t right in front of him, he would take the shot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the knife sitting on the chopping board.

“Stop babying him, Joong,” Wooyoung sneered coldly. “He’s a big boy. Just because he can’t hear the truth without throwing a temper tantrum doesn’t mean that –”

Seonghwa fingers curled around the handle of the blade and before his mind could even process what he was doing, he’d shoved Hongjoong out of the way and lunged for Wooyoung. He saw the boy’s eyes go wide with terror as he stumbled backwards and Hongjoong screamed his name but the world was white.

That was all there was. White. White anger. Blinding rage. He needed Wooyoung to shut up. He needed him to close his goddamn mouth before he said anything else. He couldn’t let Wooyoung put thoughts in Hongjoong’s head. Thoughts that could potentially convince him that Seonghwa would hurt him.

There was only one person that Seonghwa wanted to hurt right now.

He could feel his arm reeling backwards but just as he had Wooyoung cornered against the wall, San threw himself in front of him and grabbed Seonghwa’s wrist with both hands. 

His face was twisted as he tried to push the knife away but Seonghwa was so much stronger for reasons that he couldn’t identify.

Hongjoong was yelling. Wooyoung was yelling. San seized the blade itself in a last-ditch attempt to stop it from plunging into his face and Seonghwa could see the blood flowing down his forearm but he couldn’t stop himself.

He no longer knew why he was fighting or who his original target was. He just knew that he had all this anger and it needed to go somewhere and the most convenient place it could go right now was onto San.

The knife was finally knocked from his hand, scarlet blade clattering onto the kitchen tiles but he didn’t hesitate to curl his fists in the front of San’s shirt and slam him into the cabinets behind. They were fitted with glass panels that shattered immediately upon impact, fragments of crystal slicing through San’s scalp.

There were hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders. Wooyoung’s hands. And Wooyoung was screaming in his ear, sobbing, trying to pull him off and Seonghwa panicked. 

One opponent he could take, especially when that opponent was bleeding extensively, but two was too much.

He thrust his elbow backwards and felt it connect with a cheek, the hands immediately disappearing as his assailant was sent stumbling sideways. That was one threat neutralised. One more to go.

“Hwa … Stop this …”

The enemy in front of him was clinging to his wrists, smearing blood all over his skin, and his face was so pale but his eyes were still open. As long as his eyes were open, he could still cause harm. Seonghwa couldn’t stop until those eyes weren’t open anymore.

He ripped the body away from the cabinets and rammed it into the fridge instead. Twice. 

There was the sickening thud of a skull on metal and Seonghwa released his grip to let his victim crumple to the ground like every single one of his bones had just disappeared.

There was blood on his shirt. Pooling beneath his hand. Smeared over his face. Soaking his hair. Formulating a thick puddle that was gradually spreading over the glass-strewn kitchen tiles as the numerous wounds in the back of his head continued to leak at an impressive pace.

The threats were neutralised. Seonghwa was safe now.

“No!” Wooyoung wailed.

And just like that, the illusion was over.

He took a step back, watching in stunned disbelief as Wooyoung scrambled across the floor with absolutely no regard for the shards of glass that lay waiting to slice through his hands and knees. For a second, he merely knelt over the motionless body, sobbing and whimpering under his breath as he tried to figure out what he should do.

“Please … please … wake up … wake up, baby, please …”

He pulled the bundle of bloody limbs into his arms. It didn't move. 

San. 

That was San. Not an enemy. Not a threat. Just a guy who’d been trying to defend his boyfriend.

No. No! Seonghwa was the one who’d been defending his boyfriend. Seonghwa had done what he’d had to do. San had gotten in the way. San had attacked  _ him.  _

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault.

Where was Hongjoong? He needed Hongjoong. He needed to know that Hongjoong was safe and hadn’t been injured by the enemies. He needed to find Hongjoong. Where was Hongjoong? Was he okay? Had he been taken? Where was he?

“What did you do?” Wooyoung shrieked. There were tears streaking down his face as he glared up at Seonghwa with watering eyes and blood on his hands. “You’re a monster! You’re a fucking monster!”

No. Not a monster. He’d done what he’d had to do. He’d been protecting what was his. He was in the right. He did nothing wrong. He’d protected his boyfriend. He’d done what he’d needed to do in order to keep Hongjoong safe. That didn’t make him a monster. He wasn’t a monster. San was the monster. San had attacked  _ him. _

“He … He attacked me …”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Wooyoung screamed, and Seonghwa flinched backwards.

That boy was coming at him, blotchy-faced and blood-smeared, and he was going to hurt him and Seonghwa had to do something right now or he wasn’t going to be able to protect Hongjoong anymore. He had to do something. This was a threat. He had to neutralise the threat.

The knife.

The knife on the floor.

He picked it up. 

“Seonghwa!”

The roar of his name had him whipping around and he had just enough time to see Hongjoong standing in the doorway to their bedroom with his hands trembling over his face and Jongho’s fist hurtling towards him before pain split his skull in half.

The world went black before he even hit the ground. 

\-----------------------

Seonghwa knew he was in a hospital the moment that his senses returned to him. The smell of disinfectant, the subtle beep of various monitors and the itchy feeling of a needle embedded in the back of his hand told him as much but he held off on opening his eyes.

His head was throbbing. A spot just above his right ear seemed to be the source of most of the pain and the skin there felt hot and tight and grossly uncomfortable, but it was the heaviness in his limbs that truly alarmed him.

Thanks to the disorder that was slowly rotting his brain from the inside out, he knew what being sedated felt like. The memories of whatever had happened to warrant such drastic measures were loitering at the corners of his mind, just a little too far out of reach for him to grab hold of.

He kept his eyes closed, not because he wanted to but because they just felt too heavy to open. The blankets were soft, the mattress was padded, someone was holding his hand and the pillow felt like it was swallowing his aching skull and he knew from experience that, if he did force himself back to full consciousness, he would be subjected to pokes and prods and copious questioning.

It was easier to continue to float on the brink of oblivion.

There were footsteps on the polished floor, the sound of a door opening and closing, and whoever was holding his hand tightened their grip ever so slightly.

“You’re here.” It was Mingi. “How’s the hand?”

A pause, a sigh and then, “Just a couple of bruised knuckles. I did a little boxing back in high school so I know how to sucker punch someone without dislocating my thumb.”

Jongho. Were they talking about him? Was that why his head was hurting so much? Because Jongho had punched him hard enough to knock him out? Why the hell would he do that? And why the hell wasn’t Mingi yelling at him for it?

“Is he alright?”

He certainly didn’t feel alright. He was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to some kind of drip with a marching band making a drum out of his skull because his so-called friend and roommate had, for whatever reason, decided to punch his lights out.

“Yeah, they did a CT just to be safe and he’s fine but they’re keeping him sedated because he woke up a couple of times and tried to break the doctor’s nose.”

When did that happen? He couldn’t remember ever doing that. The drugs they had him on must be pretty strong if he’d just erased that experience from his memory. What he didn’t understand, however, was why he would try to fight anyone in the first place.

“I didn’t want to hit him but he had a knife. I couldn’t think of anything else to do that would stop him from hurting himself or anyone else. San was already bleeding and he was going for Wooyoung and I …”

“No, you did the right thing.”

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. There must have been some kind of mistake. Jongho had knocked him out because he’d thought he was going to use a knife on Wooyoung? And San was bleeding? Had he stabbed him? As in, properly, actually, shoved-a-blade-in-his-gut stabbed one of his friends?

He had to wake up. He had to tell them that he hadn’t done that. That he  _ wouldn’t  _ do that. But he was just so tired and the bed was just so comfy and every part of his body felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and lined with lead. He wasn’t sure he could have opened his eyes if he tried.

“How’s San doing by the way?”

“They’re still running tests.”

Everything was too much. 

Beep. Beep. 

San was hurt because of him and he couldn’t even remember why. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Maybe he’d had another manic episode. 

Beep. 

But he’d been feeling so much better recently. 

Beep. 

It didn’t make sense that he would suddenly lash out like that. 

Beep. Beep. 

And with a knife? 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

He could have killed somebody. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. 

“Hey, his heart’s speeding up. Do you want me to get the doctor?” 

Had Hongjoong been there? 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Had Hongjoong seen him like that? 

Beep. Beep. 

Had he scared him?

Beep. 

Had he hurt him? 

Beep. Beep. 

Was that why Hongjoong wasn’t here now? 

Beep. Beep. 

Holding his hand and stroking his hair and telling him that it was all going to be okay because he loved him and that was all that mattered? 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ice flooded his veins.

His world faded back out before he could have another coherent thought. 


	15. The Wrong Drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// for ... stuff. I don't know anymore

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re the reason this happened in the first place.”

Seonghwa wasn’t sure whether he was roused for the second time – that he remembered – by Yunho’s voice or Hongjoong’s presence but he knew for certain that now was the time to announce to the world that he was awake.

Particularly when Hongjoong’s voice cracked as he replied, “I know.”

Heart strings torn to tatters, headache forgotten, Seonghwa forced his eyelids apart and blinked a couple of times in an attempt to accommodate the sudden burst of light that attacked his retinas. He heard the short sharp gasp of shock and felt the squeeze of Yunho’s fingers on his thigh.

“Hwa? Hwa, I’m right here.”

He knew that and he was thankful for that but  _ that  _ wasn’t what he wanted most right now. Hongjoong’s face was flushed and his eyes were swollen from crying and Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to latch onto his frail-looking body, pull him into the bed beside him and tell him that it wasn’t his fault.

Even if he still wasn’t sure what ‘it’ even was.

“Are you feeling okay?” Yunho asked, those long fingers combing through the patient’s hair. “Does anything hurt? Do you remember what happened?”

Seonghwa shook his head even though he didn’t know which question he was answering. He just wanted Yunho to keep quiet so that the faint ringing in his ears wouldn’t get any louder and he could just focus on why Hongjoong looked so upset from where he was standing by the door.

It took every last ounce of willpower he had to raise his arm off the bed and hold out his hand, ignoring Yunho’s entirely non-subtle huff of disapproval as he insistently wiggled his fingers until Hongjoong stepped forward to take them.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a glass of sand.

Hongjoong tried to smile, bringing his other hand up to sandwich Seonghwa’s palm between his own, but the unshed tears in his eyes and the way he refused to look at his boyfriend’s face proved just how fake that smile was.

“I should be asking you that,” he croaked.

Yunho clicked his teeth loudly just to let them know that he was still there and still just as unsupportive of the little interaction going on in front of him. Seonghwa used his free hand to give his friend’s arm an appeasing squeeze but it didn’t seem to do anything for Yunho’s temper.

Hongjoong and Yunho had always been at odds, ever since they’d met, and now Seonghwa was in the hospital for the second time in as many months. In Yunho’s books, that was at least ten steps too far.

“What happened?” Seonghwa whispered, his head rolling from side to side so he could look at the both of them. “I can only remember bits and pieces.”

Like Hongjoong screaming for him to stop, the heaviness of the kitchen knife in his hand, the blood smudged up and down his arms, Wooyoung sobbing San’s name and the agony that blossomed through his skull when Jongho’s fist connected with his face.

He still couldn’t believe that he’d been the one to cause whatever injuries San had sustained but he was starting to worry that maybe he wasn’t as blameless as he wanted himself to be.

Yunho sent Hongjoong a withering glare and the smaller boy lowered his head in an act of submission that was entirely out of character. Seonghwa would have snapped at his friend for being so rude if he wasn’t desperate to hear the story that had led to yet another hospital admission.

“You went manic,” Yunho started, still glowering at Hongjoong even as he spoke. “Or something along those lines at least, and nobody thought to call me or Mingi to help bring you down.”

Hongjoong raised his head at last and swatted at a tear, “He wasn’t manic. He was fine.”

“Yeah, because you know the difference,” Yunho snarled back. “In the four whole months that we’ve known you, you’ve managed to get to know Hwa better than I have in the last twelve years.”

Seonghwa crushed his hand in the tightest squeeze he could muster and sent him his best narrow-eyed glare until Yunho huffed in reluctant resignation and continued with the explanation he’d been asked for.

“You attacked Wooyoung. San tried to protect him and he got hurt and Jongho had to knock you out before the same could happen to anyone else.”

He was going to be sick. He could actually feel the nausea crawling through his gut. He swallowed but his mouth was dry, a stark contrast to his eyes that were now brimming with so many tears that he couldn’t see either of the faces above him.

He’d done exactly what he’d been terrified he’d do: he’d hurt someone. One of his friends. Badly enough to get the both of them in hospital. 

This could have been prevented. If he’d just taken his pills, he wouldn’t have lashed out. He wouldn’t have almost killed an innocent person.

“Hwa … Hwa, look at me.”

He didn’t want to. He was dangerous. They needed to get away from him before he did to them what he’d done to San and what he’d tried to do to Wooyoung, too. 

What if Jongho hadn’t been there to take control of the situation? Would he have gone all the way? Would he have murdered them?

“Hwa …” Yunho breathed, reaching out to thrum a tear from Seonghwa’s cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? You’re sick. You didn’t know what you were doing. We never should have left you alone in the first place so if you want to blame someone, blame us, okay?”

But that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been alone. Hongjoong had been there. Hongjoong had promised that he wouldn’t let him hurt anybody. He’d said that he would be able to get through to him if he ever got close to crossing that line but he’d been wrong and Seonghwa should have known.

This was nobody’s fault but his own. If San died …

“San’s stable,” Hongjoong cut in, blurting out the words as though he could read his boyfriend’s mind. “They pulled all the glass from his head, they stitched up his hand and they ruled out a brain injury so now they’re just running a few extra scans to be on the safe side. He’s severely concussed and he’ll have some scarring but he’s okay, Hwa. He’s going to be just fine.”

Seonghwa blinked at him through the tears that were steadily trickling down either side of his face. He wasn’t sure how Hongjoong had known exactly what he needed to hear – that San wasn’t going to die because of what he’d done – but the words were music to his ears.

Inside his head, he listed the injuries that had just been rattled off: glass in his scalp, stitches in his hand and a pretty extensive head trauma but no stab wound. That was what Seonghwa had been most afraid of when the image of the knife in his grasp and the blood on the floor came back to him.

But something had stopped him. Whether it was Hongjoong’s voice or Jongho’s punch or his own moral compass fighting for dominance, he hadn’t stabbed anyone. That didn’t excuse what he  _ had  _ done but it did make it a little easier to deal with.

“Can I see him?”

“Not yet,” Yunho interjected. “Wooyoung’s being pretty territorial right now so you could try going in there but you’d probably get your face bitten off.”

He gave a dry chuckle that Seonghwa almost joined in with. He tried not to think about the splintering effect that Wooyoung’s cries of San’s name had on his heart and he tried not to picture that kid’s tear-streaked cheeks sitting vigil beside his boyfriend’s unconscious body.

Wooyoung had watched Seonghwa try to kill the love of his life. What were the chances he would ever forget something like that?

The door opened and Mingi stepped in, a relieved smile spreading across his face at the sight of Seonghwa awake. It was short-lived, however, when his eyes honed in on Hongjoong. The two of them had all the potential of being great friends but any hopes of that happening were off the table now.

Seonghwa only wished they could see that he was to blame, not Hongjoong.

“Yunho,” Mingi started, keeping his gaze on the floor and away from all three of them. “San’s scans have come back and Yeosang says he might need your help with Wooyoung.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Yunho countered indignantly.

“Because Wooyoung doesn’t want to see me right now.”

“Then why can’t he do it?” Yunho fired back instantly, jerking his thumb in Hongjoong’s direction. “If Wooyoung doesn’t want to see you then he probably doesn’t want to see me either.”

Seonghwa felt his heart sink. Wooyoung being angry at him he could understand but Mingi and Yunho as well? The only thing they were guilty of was being too kind and selfless to abandon the violent psychopath with whom they lived.

“Please, Yunho,” Mingi sighed in that same exhausted way he knew would make whoever was on the receiving end feel guilty enough to give him whatever he wanted. “Can you just go and help them?”

Yunho looked like he’d rather eat a slug but, nevertheless, he rose from his chair with a creak of aching joints and leaned down to kiss Seonghwa on the forehead before muttering a sincere, “I’ll be right back” and leaving the room.

Mingi waited for the door to close behind him and then he exploded.

“The two of you,” he hissed, so enraged and vengeful that he didn’t dare raise his voice above a whisper for fear that he would start screaming. Seonghwa knew him too well. “Owe me one hell of an explanation.”

He’d found out that Seonghwa hadn’t been taking his pills.

“I just spoke with the doctor,” the boy continued as he strode over to the bed until he was towering over its occupant and the visitor in the chair beside it. “When you came in, your pupils were dilated and your behaviour was erratic as hell so they ran a drug test and the results just got back.”

It was coming. The inevitable eruption of anger. Seonghwa had only seen Mingi truly lose it a couple of times in all the years that they’d known each other but he was well aware that when that boy snapped, Hitler’s ghost trembled.

“There was no haloperidol in your system,” Mingi growled threateningly. “Neither was there any fluoxetine, olanzapine or ziprasidone. How long have you been off your meds?”

Hongjoong looked like he wanted the floor to envelope him. If he stayed small enough, he would probably get away unscathed but it was too late for Seonghwa. He was already tied to the stake and the pyre was about to be lit.

“I … I …”

He couldn’t tell the truth. There was no way Mingi could know that he hadn’t taken a single pill since Hongjoong had been released from the hospital. He would beat him within an inch of his life and then call Yunho in to finish the job.

“I … I don’t think you want to know the answer …”

Mingi choked out a mirthless laugh that curdled Seonghwa’s blood in his veins. He’d never been the subject of this much anger before, particularly from one of the most important people in his universe.

“So not only have you been lying to us,” he seethed. “And endangering yourself by neglecting to take the medication that you  _ know  _ you need, but you’ve replaced that medication with a fucking hallucinogenic because you’d rather get high than stay safe?”

Wait … What?

“Hallucinogenic?” Seonghwa parroted blankly. “I … I haven’t been taking a hallucinogenic.”

“Then why the fuck are there traces of LSD in your system?”

Seonghwa choked. 

The heart monitor beside his bed spiked as he battled his way into a sitting position and grabbed hold of Mingi’s hand so that he could be sure his best friend could feel the sincerity in his words.

“I swear to God, Mingi, I’ve never touched that stuff.”

They must have gotten his sample mixed up with someone else’s because there was no way he’d managed to ingest LSD of all things. And there wasn’t even a chance that he’d somehow inhaled it while Hongjoong was smoking or got some in his mouth while they were kissing because Hongjoong didn’t do LSD either.

“Why the fuck should I believe a single word you say?” Mingi snapped as he wrenched his hand back. “For all I know, you could have been lying to my face for months. I’m willing to bet you were off your pills when you took that little swim in the waterfall and nearly drowned. Did that not tell you something, Hwa? Did that not get you to see why you need those drugs?”

Seonghwa didn’t have anything with which to defend himself. If he told the truth, he could potentially incriminate Hongjoong and it wasn’t like it would actually help with the situation. Mingi was going to kick his ass whether he tried to explain himself or not.

“And LSD?” the boy spat. “LS-fucking-D? Are you fucking kidding me, Hwa? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for someone with your condition? Did you want to get high that badly?”

“I didn’t take it!” Seonghwa cried, unsure how he was supposed to get Mingi to believe him when he’d surrendered all rights to be trusted. “I swear on my mother’s life, I have never taken LSD! There must be a mistake!”

He was willing to take the fall for everything else, but not for that. Not for something he hadn’t done.

“Then why the fuck did it show up on your test?”

At a loss for what he could say, Seonghwa glanced over at Hongjoong in search of assistance and frowned at the look of mortified shame on his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were overflowing, his hands were shaking in his lap and he was staring at Seonghwa with his mouth gaping wide.

“Joong? What –?”

“I didn’t know,” the kid whispered hoarsely. “I … I researched it … I thought it was safe. I thought it would help you get over the depression and feel better. I promise, I had no idea it was dangerous.”

Seonghwa was numb. 

Numb, numb, numb. 

His entire world was closing down and he tried to get his tongue to form some –  _ any  _ – words but not a single sound came out. His ears were filled with a rushing noise and his fingertips were tingling.

Mingi spoke first.

“You drugged him?”

Hongjoong nodded, suppressing a sob with his hand against his mouth, and Seonghwa’s world imploded. He couldn’t catch his breath or even blink because it was just too unbelievable to process.

“How? And with how much?”

“Only a couple of grams,” Hongjoong whimpered, eyes rallying between the two people in front of him as he frantically and wordlessly begged for forgiveness. “I put them in his coffee and sometimes in energy drinks but I thought it was safe. I wasn’t … I was trying to help …”

“And you thought that spiking him with LSD was the way to go about it?” 

Mingi’s voice was shaking almost as much as his hands. The fact that Seonghwa was still in the room was probably the only reason Hongjoong wasn't unconscious right now. 

“Did you know it’s also a date rape drug? Or is that exactly why you chose it?” 

Hongjoong’s face drained of colour.

“No!” he spluttered desperately, seizing Seonghwa’s hand and clinging to it for dear life. “No, I never … We never did anything that you didn’t consent to. I … I would never –  _ never  _ – touch you if you said you didn’t want it …”

“You fucking drugged him!” Mingi roared, so loudly that Seonghwa felt it in his bones. “He didn’t have the capacity to know what he wanted! That’s a fucking crime, Hongjoong! Did that not occur to you? You committed a fucking crime!”

“I … I’m sorry … I thought I was …”

“Yeah, you thought you were helping, but you know what, Hongjoong? Forcefully inebriating someone who has bipolar disorder with a goddamn hallucinogenic just so that he’s more suggestible to having sex with you isn’t fucking helping!”

Seonghwa should be speaking up. Defending his boyfriend. Hongjoong had never tried to take advantage of him or coerce him into doing anything. They hadn’t even slept together yet so there was no way that had been Hongjoong’s motive for doing what he’d done.

He’d believed he was being helpful. He’d probably thought that, if he slipped just enough into Seonghwa’s coffee, it would temporarily cure him of his depression. His intentions had been nothing but innocent and Mingi needed to see that but, considering how angry he was right now, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“I’m so sorry …”

“Get out.”

“What?”

Mingi’s voice was so low and so quiet that it was barely audible but when he raised his head and repeated himself, the message was 100% clear.

“I said. Get. Out.”

“Mingi …” Seonghwa started, but he should have known Mingi was too far gone.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he bellowed, and Hongjoong was through the door in less than two seconds.

Seonghwa wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay but the IV connecting him to the drip and the way that Mingi was blocking the door as he pressed his forehead against it and silently seethed made that action impossible.

“Mingi … Please calm down … He never did anything to me …”

“You can never see him again,” Mingi decreed, straightening up and turning to face the boy in the bed. “For his sake, we’ll keep this from Yunho and from your parents, but if he comes within ten feet of you or our dorm room again, I will knock him flat on his ass.”

Seonghwa gaped, “You’re not my mother. You can’t do that. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“The best thing …” Mingi rasped incredulously. “The best thing? Seonghwa, since you met him, he’s convinced you to go off your medication, made you blame yourself for  _ his  _ suicide attempt, almost let you drown and repeatedly spiked your drink with a drug that caused you to lose it and attack San.”

But … But none of that had been Hongjoong’s fault. Right? He hadn’t known any of those things would happen. There was … He wouldn’t … If he’d known, he would never have … It wasn’t Hongjoong’s fault.

“He’s harmed you so many times and the only reason you can’t see it is because you think you love him.”

“I do love him …”

“This isn’t love, Hwa,” Mingi breathed. He lowered himself into the chair beside the bed and took Seonghwa’s hand. “I know that he never meant for you to get hurt but he doesn’t understand how serious your disorder is. You’ve been unmedicated for too long to realise this relationship is toxic and that’s why I need to put a stop to it. I have to protect you because you don’t have the presence of mind to protect yourself.” 

Seonghwa’s mind was screaming at him –  _ wrong, wrong, wrong, not right, not right, love Joong, need Joong, can’t live without Joong  _ – but before he could verbalise the chaos that was going on inside his head, something interrupted him.

The best way he could describe it was as a kind of wailing scream. It was the sound of misery and despair and unbearable, unbearable pain and it belonged to Wooyoung.

“Stay here,” Mingi ordered as he lurched towards the door and disappeared out into the hallway, but Seonghwa was already tearing the IV from his hand.

A tiny trickle of blood dripped over his knuckle and his head swam as he swung his legs out of bed. The only reason he didn’t topple over the moment that he tried to stand up was that he had to find out why Wooyoung would be making a sound so gut-wrenching when San was supposedly stable.

It was possible that Hongjoong had lied to him in an attempt to calm him down. It was possible that San had never been stable. It was possible that Wooyoung was audibly sobbing in the corridor outside because the light of his life had just gone out.

Seonghwa didn’t even care that the only thing he was wearing was one of those ugly cotton gowns. He staggered forwards and latched onto the doorframe to steady himself before taking a deep breath and dragging his protesting feet over the threshold.

The majority of his friendship circle was gathered at the end of the hallway, the only one missing being Hongjoong, and there was a doctor there, too, with a solemn expression and downcast eyes.

Wooyoung was on his knees, hunched forwards with his face pressed into the ground and his arms over his head as though that would somehow mask the heartbroken sobs he was making. He had Yunho crouched at his side, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back but it was like spitting on a fire.

Jongho had slumped into one of the chairs along the wall, head in his hands, and Mingi was holding Yeosang by the shoulders as his grief-stricken and violently trembling boyfriend tried to choke out an explanation.

Seonghwa saw the moment that Yeosang broke down and Mingi pulled him against his chest, chin resting on top of his head and fingers stroking through his hair. He was probably murmuring soft assurances but the look on his face was visible even from here: disbelief.

San was dead. Or in a coma. Or paralysed. Or something equally awful because those were the only explanations as to why they were reacting this way. 

And Seonghwa had believed that his day couldn’t actually get any worse. 

He swayed on the spot, too stunned to even put out an arm to catch his balance, and somebody snapped an arm around his waist. He blinked. Jongho had somehow managed to teleport the length of the corridor.

“You need to be lying down.”

His voice was thick. He was trying not to cry.

Seonghwa let himself be led back to his bed, Jongho taking most of his weight, and he practically collapsed against the mattress as soon as he was close enough. Maybe he was dizzy from the headache or the sedation but he couldn’t feel anything. Not a single thing.

“San …” he managed to choke as Jongho pulled the blankets back over him. “He’s dead? I killed him?”

“No,” Jongho mumbled without making eye contact. “He’s not dead and it’s not your fault.”

Then why …? Why? Why …

“Jongho,” he pleaded, feeling the sting of moisture in his eyes. “What’s happened to him?”

He had to know what he’d done. He had to know whether his arrogance and his irresponsibility had ruined another person’s life and he had to know how badly he needed to be punished because of it.

“It’s nothing to do with what you did,” Jongho forced out, still without meeting Seonghwa’s eye. “San’s tumour grew back.”

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair!

“And because he’s a stubborn piece of shit who refused to go to the hospital, he didn’t know, and now it’s too late to operate.”

It … It wasn’t fair …

“He won't make it to the end of the school year.” 


	16. A Broken Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of suicide

Seonghwa hissed out a breath of irritation as yet another grape struck him on the side of the head.

“You know who throws things?” he muttered under his breath. “Animals. And fucking children.”

Soobin only chuckled as his victim added the grape to the steadily-growing pile in his lap. He was sure they were his own from a bag of mixed fruit he had on the table next to his arm. He was also sure that he’d never invited Soobin to sit next to him but, as ever, the gremlin did as he pleased.

Seonghwa hit submit on his last quiz of the day, sat up and stretched out his cramped muscles and sore limbs with a groan of content. Most of his assignments were way past overdue but, with Mingi’s interference and a doctor’s note, he’d been allowed to send them in late so long as he wrote a couple of essays to make up his grades.

He scrolled through his list and puffed a sigh of relief at the realisation that there was only one more paper due this week and he’d have the weekend to get the other one done.

It was a slow process but he was getting there, finally making a dent in the mass of emails and quizzes his lecturer had sent him during the time that he was either in hospital or too depressed to get out of bed.

He supposed it was good that he was so busy. It was good that he had something to be hyper-focused on so that he didn’t have to dwell on his current situation. All the new rules and medications and weekly meetings with the school counsellor to make sure his recovery and re-assimilation were going according to plan.

Mingi had kept his promise and hadn’t told Yunho, but he had confided in Jongho and now the both of them watched him like hawks. It was almost like being back at the facility in the way they woke him up at the same time every morning to give him his pills, ensure they were swallowed and that he had breakfast even if they had to force it down his protesting throat.

They walked him to and from every class, had hourly check-ins via text and gave him a sleeping pill after dinner just to be certain that he would be out for the entire night.

If it weren’t for the gentle touches and forehead kisses throughout, Seonghwa would have probably cried every time he saw them but he knew they were doing this because they cared and that it wouldn’t last forever. It was just until his body got accustomed to the drugs once again.

Maybe, once that happened, he wouldn’t feel this numb. Or empty.

It wasn’t like anything was missing per se. It was simply out of reach, just a little further than his fingertips could get to.

His brain worked just fine, maybe even better than before judging by how quickly he was getting his work done. It was his emotions that were the problem and the problem was that he couldn’t really find them. And when he did, he wasn’t sure which one it was so, for the most part, he’d been living without them.

Another grape connected with his cheek and Seonghwa bit his lip in an effort not to curse. There had to be some sort of award that Soobin was working up to. No one could be this irritating without it being purposeful.

That boy’s actions alone were overriding almost two weeks’ worth of medication. There had to be an award for that.

“Why are you so moody?” he asked tantalisingly, leaning over to dip his fingers back into Seonghwa’s bag of fruit. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of mindless zombie right now?”

“Can you please get a new hobby?” Seonghwa deadpanned in response. “I’m begging you.”

“You invited me to sit with you.”

“I am one hundred and ten percent certain that I never invited you to sit with me.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, “You used to be a lot more fun before these new drugs.”

“And you used to be a lot more scarce.”

He closed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping drastically as the thicket of winter approached but Seonghwa wasn’t ready to go home yet even if Soobin was driving him up the wall. 

It was too tense there for obvious reasons and, even on his pills, Seonghwa could still taste the uneasiness in the air. The dorm crackled with it. They hardly ever spoke to each other. There was no San or Wooyoung invading the space in the mornings, none of Yeosang’s quiet humming or Lord Boop’s toys lying around and, most noticeably, no Hongjoong.

Mingi had kept that promise, too.

Hongjoong was gone.

Seonghwa would have assumed he’d moved out of the building entirely if it weren’t for the light scent of weed that sometimes lingered in the halls. Weed and paint and strawberry conditioner. That was what Hongjoong smelt like.

Seonghwa missed him. Maybe somewhat distantly but he missed him all the same. It was always hard to tell when he was like this. While he was on the medication, he couldn’t feel things the way that he used to but he could remember them.

He remembered what it was like to have him in hi arms and he remembered what he smelt like. He remembered the way his heart raced when they kissed. He remembered sleeping with his body curled protectively around him. His little hands and painted fingernails. His tiny nose and sparkling eyes.

He remembered what loving Kim Hongjoong had felt like but all of that was now nothing more than a niggling sensation somewhere deep inside his chest that was too painful to actually focus on. So, instead, he threw himself into his work and he ignored it.

He supposed he should be thankful for the interference.

Now that he was capable of coherent thought, he knew how toxic they were together. He knew Hongjoong had been encouraging behaviours that would be conclusively harmful but he wasn’t the only one to blame. Seonghwa hadn’t – couldn’t – give Hongjoong nearly as much attention as he needed.

Had he been more attentive, had he not been so concerned about his own brain, had he not been so hung up on what Hongjoong made him feel, he’d have gotten his ex-boyfriend the help that he so desperately needed. Hongjoong was struggling in more ways than one and Seonghwa, more than anyone, should have been able to tell him that self-medicating was not the right answer.

He had failed Hongjoong just as badly as Hongjoong had failed him.

Now, instead of laughs and group dates, all they had were Mingi’s stern looks and Jongho’s quiet glances and Yunho’s sad smiles.

Seonghwa was glad he was back on his meds. He was glad he was so numb to everything. He was glad because he knew that if he  _ could  _ feel, he’d never survive feeling  _ this. _

“That’s a morbid thought.”

He glanced up to see Soobin once again staring at him, large dark eyes tearing down every last wall – both drug-induced and self-made – to see beyond Seonghwa’s expressionless façade. Soobin always seemed to know.

Since the day Seonghwa had woken up to Soobin sitting on the other bed in his room, he’d always seemed to know. It went deeper than just understanding because he’d gone through it, too. Sometimes, it felt like Soobin was in his head, reading his thoughts like a book.

“What are you going on about this time?” Seonghwa sighed, shouldering his bag.

Soobin scooped up his own and shoved the last of the grapes he’d stolen into his mouth.

“You said you’d kill yourself if you could feel everything.” 

Seonghwa must have been thinking out loud. It was uncommon for him but not unheard of.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracked. “It’s just that everything is so fucked up right now that I guess, if I wasn’t in some sort of cloud all the time, I’d try anything to make it all stop.”

“Anything like killing yourself?”

“I’m not going to kill myself, Soobin.”

“Not right now anyway,” the boy countered in that infuriatingly knowing tone. “The drugs won’t let you feel suicidal but I’ll bet that the second you come off them, we’ll be in that locker room again.”

Seonghwa stopped abruptly in his tracks, “Why are you here?”

Soobin almost walked into him but managed to stop just in time and, when they faced each other, Seonghwa had to look up a little. He wondered if Soobin had always been so tall.

“You asked me to be.”

“I didn’t!” Seonghwa shouted in frustration. “Please stop fucking showing up! Walk the other way when you see me. Just … leave!”

“I can if you really want me to but you’ll always call for me again.”

“I can assure you, I will not be calling you.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, “Tell that to Lord Dolos and save me the bullshit, Hwa.”

Seonghwa took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head. He shouldn’t be this irritated with Soobin. He shouldn’t be this irritated at all. He would need to tell Mingi that he was still capable of human emotion later but, for now, he had to explain to this annoying little earworm that harassing other people wasn’t exactly a healthy pastime.

In fact, this annoying little earworm should probably try looking into switching his meds, too.

“Binnie?” Seonghwa asked, ignoring the amused eyebrow that Soobin cocked at the condescending tone being used to address him. “Do you feel okay?”

“What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“Well, you’re being weirder than usual, which is saying a lot. You’ve also brought up suicide more times than I’m comfortable with.”

“I didn’t bring it up, Hwa … You did.” 

Seonghwa threw his arms up in exasperation and let them drop back down to his sides, “Okay … So I’ve wasted my daily amount of concern and kindness on you yet again.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off. Soobin’s chuckling tailed him down the hallway but, thankfully this time, he didn’t follow. 

\--------------------------

Seonghwa skidded through the ice, rain and slush, sending mumbled but desperate prayers up to anyone who would listen that Mingi wouldn’t be too upset with him.

He’d slept through the check-in time which may not have been a big deal if his class hadn’t been cancelled and he was where he was supposed to be. Instead, he’d used the extra time to go to the library and he’d made the mistake of falling asleep at his desk.

By the time he’d finally woken up, he was already half an hour late for the check-in and it was pouring with rain. He didn’t have an umbrella but he’d rather catch pneumonia than deal with the wrath of Song Mingi.

The glass doors of the dorm complex were in sight now and Seonghwa headed for them at full speed, ramming with open with his shoulder and rounding the corner only to run headfirst into someone coming in the opposite direction.

They both fell, rolling over each other in a mess of now-dripping-wet and tangled limbs.

“Fucking asshole,” Seonghwa cursed as he scrambled up to his hands and knees and started collecting his books. “Watch where you’re –”

He glanced up and stuttered into stunned silence. He flicked his soggy bangs aside but the identity of the person he’d collided with – the person who was now irritably pushing himself up onto his elbows – remained the same: Wooyoung. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” the boy huffed. “Shit.”

Seonghwa hadn’t seen him since that day in the hospital and for good reason.

Wooyoung’s face flickered with a million different emotions before it finally settled on quiet resignation. He let out a sigh, clambering to his feet as if he had the bones of an eighty-year-old and every movement caused him a great amount of pain. And then, surprisingly, he reached out a hand for Seonghwa to take.

Seonghwa blinked confusedly at the offering but accepted it anyway.

“Don’t look so nervous,” Wooyoung smirked bitterly as he pulled him up. 

For a second, neither of them spoke, and Wooyoung seemed to be looking anywhere but at his unscheduled companion.

He looked so tired and so conflicted and Seonghwa wondered what was going through his head.

“I suppose I should thank you for beating the shit out of him.” Well, he hadn’t expected that. “We’d never have gotten him to go to the hospital and I’d have woken up one morning to a cold body in my arms.” 

Seonghwa flinched at the directness. Somehow, it hurt a lot worse that Wooyoung wasn’t using San’s name. Almost like it inflicted too much pain on his heart to spell out the syllables of the person he had expected to spend the rest of his life with but now wouldn’t get to finish the year with.

The last that Seonghwa had heard, San’s parents had moved him to a hospice in Namhae so that he could be closer to his family, but that meant further from his friends.

Wooyoung looked awkward and out of place without him by his side. Not that they were never without each other at all, but there seemed to be something missing. 

He had his arms wrapped around himself as if there was nowhere else to put them. His shoulders were hunched and he leaned heavily against the wall like he didn’t possess the strength to stand on his own.

“He’s okay,” he said suddenly. “Well … not  _ okay _ , but he’s not in pain anymore. He’s active. He’s doing everything he used to do.”

But that didn’t change the fact that he was going to die. And soon.

It suddenly occurred to Seonghwa that Wooyoung wasn’t saying this for his benefit, he was saying it for his own. He needed to tell himself that everything was normal and fine and happy, that San was no longer suffering, otherwise he wouldn’t know how to handle it.

They were The Love Story. They were the example that every couple strived to follow. They’d known each other since childhood, had dated since adolescence, had probably been planning to get married and start a family once they’d graduated and settled into stable jobs.

They were the ‘happily ever after’ that was never meant to exist. Too good to be true. So perfect for each other that the universe couldn’t fathom the idea of allowing them to grow old together.

“It’s easy to forget, you know?” Wooyoung mumbled, shaking his head slowly with his gaze still fixed on a spot just above Seonghwa’s head. “He looks fine. His body is healthy, he’s smiling and laughing and everything. But this …”

He tapped his index finger against his temple, and Seonghwa understood. No elaboration was needed. He lived with that same issue every single day. 

The brain was hidden from sight. Confined in a skull shrouded by skin and hair. When the brain was sick, it wasn’t something you could tell by just looking. A fever you can feel, a broken leg you could see but a tumor? Bipolar disorder?

“I guess …” Wooyoung continued, almost as though he was speaking to himself. “Now that I know the full story, I should apologise. It wasn’t fair for me to say those things to you. I get it now.”

“Woo … I –” Seonghwa began without really knowing how he was going to finish, but Wooyoung cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

“I’m taking the rest of the semester off and transferring my credits to Gyeongsangnam University. Depending on how quickly he deteriorates, I might drop out altogether. I can take the course another time.”

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. His education could wait. It wasn’t going anywhere. But the same could not be said for the love of his life.

San was his entire world and Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel – for whatever unknown reason – like he’d taken it away. 

“At least, that way, I can be closer to him and I don’t have to look at your stupid face … No offence.” 

“Woo –”

“Stop trying to fucking speak to me!” Wooyoung screamed, and Seonghwa almost tripped backwards from the force of it.

Wooyoung hunched over, hands fisted in his hair and sent a couple of deliberately levelled breaths towards the floor before straightening back up and fixing Seonghwa with the most withering and hateful glare he could muster.

If it weren’t for the tears pooling in his eyes, it would have been intimidating. Instead, it was just heart-breaking.

“Can’t you tell that I don’t want to hear your stupid voice or see your stupid face? You fucking –” He paused and took another hitched breath, eyes on the ceiling as if gravity would help impede the tears from falling.

Seonghwa felt like crying, too. Nothing about this was right or fair or okay. For as long as he’d known Wooyoung, he had never seen him do anything but smile. The fact that the kid even had this side to him should never have been revealed to the world but now it was because  _ his  _ world was crumbling.

How did you deal with something like that? How were you supposed to cope? Knowing that the end was coming but too insignificant and powerless to stop it. Helpless to prevent the inevitable. Forced to sit back and watch as the circle of life acted out its cruellest process.

San may be feeling alright now but how would he feel in a month's time? Two months? Four? The doctors had only given him six. Maybe eight at the very, very most. His skin was going to get paler, his muscles were going to waste away, his bones would become weaker, his hair would get thinner.

He was going to grow old on his own, right before Wooyoung’s eyes. And then he would go to sleep, right before Wooyoung’s eyes. And then Wooyoung’s eyes would see nothing but pain and sadness, trapped in a seemingly immortal body that couldn’t even falter while San’s turned to dust.

“I know it’s not your fault, Hwa …” he blurted through heaving breaths. “But I fucking  _ hate  _ you right now and I  _ hate  _ that I hate you because he wouldn’t want me to and ‘life is short’ and all that shit but I don’t fucking care because my baby is dying and I hate that more than I hate hating you!”

His face cracked wide open and the flood of tears he’d been so desperately trying to hold back from the moment that he saw Seonghwa were now all over his face, dripping from his nose and chin as he wept openly and shamelessly in the middle of the hallway.

It didn’t have to go like this. If Seonghwa had just stayed on his medication. If San had just gone to the hospital like he was supposed to. Hongjoong didn’t have to leave. The doctors could have cut the tumour out before it was too late. They all could have graduated together.

They used to be so happy. All eight of them. So in love and blissfully unaware and now … now everyone was broken.

“You get your fucking act together, Park Seonghwa,” Wooyoung spat through the tears. “You get to have a future. You’re lucky. So you get your fucking act together and maybe then I won’t still be asking myself why you get to live and San doesn’t.”

Broken. 

\-----------------------

An all-too familiar giggle pierced through the cafeteria the second that Seonghwa shoved through the doors and it took the strength of Hercules to keep him from turning to flee Hongjoong’s orbit. 

His ex was surrounded by people, all laughing and chattering as if the universe wasn’t fracturing outside of their little social bubble. Yeosang sat quietly by his side with his headphones clamped over his head, bobbing to whatever music was playing. 

He and Mingi were still dating but they’d had to limit the time that they spent together. Now that Wooyoung and San were gone, Yeosang was the closest friend that Hongjoong had. 

Seonghwa took a breath and walked calmly towards the line to get his lunch. He spotted Yunho, Mingi and Jongho across the room at their usual table and gave them a small chin lift as he passed, indicating that he would join them once he had his food. 

“Oh, look, Joongie!” someone yelled excitedly from behind him. “It’s your boyfriend.” 

The entire table erupted into raucous laughter that went on far too long for the poor attempt at humour the culprit had been going for. It was all Seonghwa could do to keep his eyes forward and his head held high. 

“Very funny, guys,” Hongjoong chuckled dryly. 

Seonghwa clenched his fists and closed his eyes. 

“Thank goodness you came to your senses. We were wondering if we’d have to stage an intervention,” another person cackled but this time Seonghwa didn’t hear Hongjoong’s response. 

“Yeah, honestly … Was this some kind of charity thing?” 

“Aren’t those the worst? My grandmother made me do that last year.” 

“Yeah, slumming it is rough but I’m sure Joongie got a good pay-out for his trouble.” 

“Didn’t your dad just turn over another million?” 

Seonghwa did his best to tune them out. He told himself that they didn’t bother him. People talked about him all the time. No, what made this occasion so agonising was that Hongjoong was among him. 

It felt like the night that they met all over again: Hongjoong silently listening as his friends took it in turns to bully Seonghwa. But what was most surprising was that Seonghwa didn’t feel mad. He just felt sorry for him. Maybe once Mingi had gotten over his anger, Seonghwa could convince him to help Hongjoong get checked. 

“Was he at least a good fuck?” someone else asked. 

“Yeah, at the very least, I hope that –”

Seonghwa turned around and, immediately, his eyes met Hongjoong’s. 

“Come on, Joong, tell us … Was it good?” 

Holding his breath, Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow. 

Maybe he was daring Hongjoong to say something. Maybe he was daring him to tell the truth and deny that they’d ever slept together. 

Whatever he was doing, Hongjoong seemed like a little lost lamb for several long moments before one of his friends grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. 

“Joongie, come on. We’re dying to know.” 

Hongjoong’s gaze never left Seonghwa as he opened his mouth and said, “Yeah … The sex was okay.” 

Seonghwa’s lunch tray slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a deafening clatter, rice and stew decorating the polished linoleum. The entire cafeteria was startled to silence before the low rumble of stamping feet and a crescendo of “ooooohhh!” cut through the air. 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even tell if he was angry or hurt. His heart was racing. He felt sick. He felt gross. He loved Hongjoong – he knew that – but whoever that was, sitting in the cafeteria wearing Hongjoong’s skin, was not his Hongjoong. Hongjoong had never been that malicious, even before they knew each other. 

Seonghwa wanted to rip his skin off. Everywhere that Hongjoong had ever touched him he wanted scrubbed from his body. 

“Hwa!”

He sped up his pace, vision blurred and head pounding as he burst through the cafeteria doors. 

“Seonghwa! Wait … please!”

“Why?” he yelled over his shoulder, slamming his way into the bathroom. “So you can give me a play-by-play on how we fucked? Because I can’t seem to remember that little piece of information!”

“Seonghwa … please,” Hongjoong begged, panting, a little out of breath from trying to keep up.

How dare he? How fucking dare he ask for something after what he’d just done? He could have told them to shut up. He could have stayed silent. He could have walked away. He could have done a million different things that would have diffused the situation but, instead, he’d done that. 

Seonghwa whirled around to face him – the man who used to be his world – and wondered how he could ever have been so blind. 

Hongjoong had always been the rich popular kid at school. He had a bottomless well of friends and no reason to ever befriend somebody as twisted and fucked up as Seonghwa. 

So, so blind. 

He’d been right to run away the first time. And the second time. Even the third. He’d fallen for the sob stories and the lies of an addict and he’d almost paid for it with both his and San’s lives. If Mingi hadn’t stepped in when he had, he might never have realised just how far gone he was. 

“Seonghwa …” Hongjoong repeated for the umpteenth time. As if he had a right to say his name. “Can we talk?” 

Seonghwa almost laughed. ‘Can we talk?’ seemed to be the magic words. Hongjoong knew how much weight they held in Seonghwa’s heart. 

“We aren’t even supposed to be seeing each other, Joong, and I’m willing to bet that either Mingi or Yunho are already on their way here so I suggest that you leave.” 

Hongjoong opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Like a sticky, smelly, rotten fish. Seonghwa had been blind. Only now could he see how ugly Hongjoong was. The bruising under his eyes, his pale and chapped lips, his washed-out complexion, his fading red hair. 

Hongjoong was ugly inside and out. 

“That was really uncool, Joong,” Soobin observed as he stepped up behind Hongjoong.

Seonghwa didn’t even see him enter. Hongjoong didn’t even flinch.

“What are you doing here, Soobin?”

Hongjoong spun around, startled, but immediately turned back to Seonghwa with a bewildered expression on his face, “Hwa …”

Seonghwa cut him off with a snarl, “If you aren’t going to explain yourself, don’t speak to me.”

Soobin was still standing there, glowering at the back of Hongjoong’s head with his arms folded over his chest and his jaw set in threatening fury, “Tell us why, Joong.”

“Soobin, this has nothing to do with you,” Seonghwa snapped.

“This has everything to do with me,” the boy snapped back.

“Seonghwa ….” Hongjoong whispered, his voice small as if he was afraid to voice his thoughts. “Seonghwa, look at me. Please … Look at me …”

Seonghwa ignored him, choosing instead to direct his order at the person he really didn’t want to insert himself into this situation right now.

“Soobin, you need to leave. I already have Hongjoong to deal with. I don’t want to deal with you, too.”

The door opened and Mingi stuck his head into the bathroom, “Hwa?”

“See?” Seonghwa continued to rage. Soobin had stopped looking angry and had now reverted back to his infuriating smirk of smugness. “Mingi’s here. I don’t need your backup!”

“Hwa … what the fuck?” 

Mingi looked positively terrified as he moved further into the room and reached behind him to shut the door but, before he could, Yeosang slipped in.

“Joong?”

“Sangie, I –”

“We don’t want to hear it, Joong.”

“Soobin, please, for the love of …”

“So he is still here,” Mingi cut in, silencing the chaos with that simple sentence. “I thought so. That’s why I asked the doctors to switch out the olanzapine for something stronger.”

Seonghwa blinked, “What?”

He took a step backwards, away from the judgemental expressions and pitying gazes, and his back hit the sink. 

He felt like he was on the verge of something, like he could just about see the premises of light through the fog. A realisation was waiting at the edge of the haze and yet he couldn’t quite grasp it. 

“Seonghwa …” Mingi whispered gently. “How many people are in this room?”

“What?” Seonghwa said again, because it was the only thing he could to say.

He couldn’t back up any further. He wanted to. His body needed to retreat. His mind needed to close off. Protect him from what was about to happen. He could literally feel all his brain receptors trying to fire all at once in an attempt to alert him to some threat that he just couldn’t see.

“How many people, Hwa? Excluding yourself.”

“Four,” he blurted, because it was obvious. 

Right?

“Hwa …” Hongjoong murmured. He sounded absolutely heartbroken but Seonghwa ignored him.

Soobin was still smiling that strange knowing smile and Seonghwa was more confused than he’d ever been in his life. He may have been on the brink of a panic attack and he wanted nothing more than to get out of this room and as far away from all these people – these  _ four  _ people – as he possibly could but his feet were frozen to the floor.

“Seonghwa,” Yeosang said softly. Why were they all looking at him as if he was made of glass? “There are only three of us here.”

“No,” Seonghwa shook his head, raising a finger to point at each of them. “Joong. Yeosang. Mingi.”

He pointed to the space next to Hongjoong.

“Soobin.”

“Seonghwa …” Mingi tried, but Seonghwa just kept shaking his head. He shook it so violently that he almost tipped over from the force.

Ignoring their calls, ignoring their presences and their attempts at holding him back, he shoved past them – all  _ four  _ of them – until he got to the door. He pulled it open, heart in his throat and hands quivering like leaves in the breeze, and he ran. 


	17. Candy Floss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus... here we go

The following morning, Seonghwa awoke before the alarm went off but he remained flat on his back in bed, staring intently up at the shadows glancing off the ceiling and listening to Jongho breathe in the adjacent bed. 

The previous day must have been a dream. A horrible, bizarre, shockingly vivid dream. It was the only explanation because there was no way that Hongjoong would make up lies about him and spread them around campus and there was no way that what Mingi and Yeosang had said in that bathroom could be true. 

So it was a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn’t … No. He wasn’t going to even entertain that possibility because it had all been a dream and none of those terrible things had actually happened. 

The alarm clock screeched its regulated warning, alerting them to the fact that time was ticking away and they had an obligation to do something with it. Seonghwa could have reached over to turn it off but he chose to keep his eyes closed and listen to Jongho fumbling sleepily around in the dark. 

It was easier that way. Then he wouldn’t have to make conversation or talk about anything that had happened yesterday. Or hadn’t happened yesterday. His head hurt. 

Jongho bumbled around for a couple of minutes, cursing when he stubbed his toe and almost overbalanced while pulling on his jeans. Seonghwa had never noticed just how clumsy and loud that boy was in the mornings. 

He wished he could remain entrapped in oblivion for at least another ten minutes or so but the soft murmur of his name from above and the gentle hand that rested against his shoulder was inevitable. 

“Hwa? Time to wake up.” 

Seonghwa opened his eyes obediently. Jongho gave him a few moments to adjust before he switched on the bedside lamp and illuminated the room with a dim orange glow. It was so late in the year now that just drawing the curtains didn’t provide a sufficient enough light. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Same question every morning. Surely that was a good sign. It meant that nothing had happened that would cause Jongho to change his routine. It meant that all of … that … had to have been a dream. 

He propped his elbows beneath him and pushed his upper body off the mattress, holding out his hand to accept the pills that Jongho had at the ready. It was humiliating having somebody younger than him police his every movement but he’d learnt not to fight the system by now. 

Throwing back his head, he swallowed the drugs and took the glass of water to wash them down. He didn’t need it. He was so experienced that he could take them dry, so the action was more of a courtesy to Jongho. 

He opened his mouth, allowing Jongho to check for any evidence of foul play before he was finally given the green light in the form of a comforting pat on the shoulder, and the boy got up to continue with his morning rituals. 

Seonghwa was a little slower. He always was but, on this occasion, he was particularly slow. Something felt different. He couldn’t explain but it felt like there was some little voice inside that was trying to convince him not to go out into the main room. 

Jongho was already disappearing through the door by the time he got his wits about him and swung his legs out of bed. He scooped up his phone and turned it on, checking for the text from Soobin that had become a constant for him over the past few weeks. 

It wasn’t there. 

Seonghwa supposed he should be relieved that the kid was finally giving him some peace and quiet but that little voice was still there, still trying to warn him that something wasn’t right. 

Pushing it aside, just like with every other problem he had, he pulled on the clothes that Jongho had left for him on the back of the chair across the room and shuffled out into the kitchen, pulling his hood over his head in a poor attempt at hiding the birds nest that had become of his hair. 

Yunho was sitting on the couch, elbows of his knees. Mingi was perched on the armrest. Jongho was leaning against the wall with his morning cup of coffee already half-finished. They’d clearly been waiting for him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Seonghwa whined. “No. Not this morning. Please, not this morning.” 

He still couldn’t tell them what was different about this morning but he just knew that he couldn’t handle any kind of discussion right now. He’d hauled himself out of bed, he’d taken his medication, he’d done everything he was supposed to do and he wasn’t in the mood to go the extra mile. 

“I know,” Yunho hummed understandingly, pushing off the couch and striding over. “But we need to talk about this.” 

There was nothing to talk about. Nothing happened. He’d been doing everything right. He’d abided by their rules, he’d done what was expected of him. There was no reason they could be mad at him. There was no reason for any of this. 

Nevertheless, he allowed Yunho to guide him over to the sofa and flopped compliantly down onto the cushions. His friend sat beside him, one arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders, but Seonghwa couldn’t help the feeling that he was about to get some kind of ‘talking to’. 

He wished they’d stop treating him like a child. 

“None of us want to do this,” Mingi started solemnly. “But we’ve been putting it off for long enough so I’m just going to get straight to the point. How long have you been seeing Soobin?” 

So it hadn’t been a dream after all. He’d known that. Deep down, he’d known that. It didn’t stop his stomach from slithering down into his feet, though. 

He forced a scoff, “What, because you’re convinced he’s not real? He’s a ghost? Is that it? Come on, Mingi, you know as well as I do that’s bullshit.” 

“Hwa …” Yunho mumbled, tightening his grip on Seonghwa’s shoulders as he pressed his forehead into the boy’s temple. “Just answer the question.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa snapped back. “There’s absolutely nothing you can say that will make me believe I conjured him up out of thin air because, for starters, that shit only happens to schitzos and I’m not a schitzo. And secondly, if I was going to create an imaginary friend – and that’s a big fucking ‘if’, mind you – why the fuck would I create one as annoying as him?”

Push it down. Fight the truth. Fight it for as long as you can because you cannot afford to have another reason for them to lock you back up in that psych ward. Bipolar disorder is one thing. Hallucinating full-grown people is another. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” he continued, looking from Mingi to Jongho as though begging one of them to agree with him. “You see that, right? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Mingi slid off the armrest so that he could crouch down in front of Seonghwa and take his hands. The expression on his face was like one of a parent consoling a frightened child and it only proved to cause Seonghwa further irritation. 

“Seonghwa …” he said. What was their obsession with constantly saying his name like that? “Soobin isn’t real.” 

Why couldn’t they just give it up? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Was it actually because they cared or because they just didn’t want to feel responsible when he finally snapped and offed himself? 

“The fuck he isn’t. He was my roommate. Call the hospital if it means that much to you.” 

“I did,” Mingi whispered. “You were in a room on your own. There was never a patient named Soobin being treated there at the same time as you.” 

Seonghwa didn’t know what to say. Obviously, Mingi was lying. He remembered every moment in that place and half of them he’d spent with Soobin. There was absolutely no way he hadn’t been there. Either Soobin wasn’t his real name or the hospital had gotten their records mixed up. 

“The staff there often saw you talking to somebody you called Soobin but there was never anybody there, Hwa. They put you on the medication and you stopped for a little bit so all I’m trying to find out is when that stopped working.”

Seonghwa shook his head. It seemed to be a common occurrence for him these days.

Soobin was a cheeky little bastard. He liked to run away when other people approached, just to make Seonghwa look like he was speaking to thin air. If only medication was enough to get the brat to leave him alone then his problems would have been marginally easier to solve.

“I didn’t make him up,” he hissed defensively, but even he could hear the hitch in his voice. “I’m not crazy. I didn’t invent a friend because I was lonely or any of that shit you see on TV. How pathetic do you think I am?” 

“We don’t think you’re pathetic,” Yunho assured him, still squeezing tightly at his shoulders. “And we know you’re not crazy, but that doesn’t change the fact that this Soobin you can see never existed.” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, already preparing more protests and denials, but Jongho chose that moment to speak up for the first time since their little discussion had started. 

“What’s he majoring in, Hwa?” he asked. 

There was a pause as Seonghwa wracked his brain but, no matter how deep he delved into his recollections, he couldn’t procure the answer that Jongho was demanding. They had one class together but it was just a general ed.

“I can’t remember,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t prove shit. He just never –” 

“Where’s he from?” 

Shit, he didn’t know that either. The facility was in Jinju but Soobin’s dialect was definitely not from that area.

“Just stop it, Jong –” 

“What’s his last name?” 

“Jongho,” Seonghwa pleaded desperately. His head was starting to throb and it was all becoming too much. “Please just leave it alone.” 

“Tell me something,” Jongho pushed ruthlessly. “Anything, Hwa. Anything you know about him. Where was he born? Does he have siblings? Who are his friends? What was he in the hospital for? Have you ever seen him talking to a single person that wasn’t you?” 

Too much. Too much. Too much. 

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Seonghwa declared, wriggling out of Yunho’s grasp and grabbing his bag from the floor. “I’m going to class. Kindly go fuck yourselves and your whacko theories.” 

They didn’t call after him. They didn’t follow him. Clearly, they understood that he wanted to be as far away from them as possible right now. He hadn’t eaten breakfast and so his head swam as he stormed down the hallway but he pushed it down. 

Just like everything else. 

His first class didn’t start for another half hour so he was probably going to end up sitting in an empty lecture hall for twenty minutes with nothing to do but stare at the lectern and listen to his thoughts. Anything was better than staying in that room with friends that thought he was batshit crazy.

He allowed his mind to go blank, for once taking advantage of his ability to feel nothing at all. If he didn’t dwell on it, he could pretend it wasn’t really happening and if he could pretend it wasn’t really happening, it wouldn’t happen.

The sky was still a little dark and the air was freezing cold. He wasn’t really dressed for such weather but so long as he kept moving, the goosebumps pricking his skin wouldn’t stay so prominent and he wouldn’t be able to see the tiny puffs of mist in front of his lips.

“Hey, Seonghwa!”

Fuck. Shit. Goddamn it. Gosh motherfucking darn you, Zeus. Out of every person in the entire world, the one that he least wanted to see was the one now jogging towards him with his infuriatingly cheerful face split in an infuriatingly cheerful smile.

“I didn’t get to see you after you ran off yesterday,” Soobin panted as he finally caught up and fell into step beside Seonghwa. “That was one hell of a realisation, wasn’t it? Are you doing okay?”

Seonghwa refused to acknowledge his presence. He kept his eyes forwards, his feet moving and his mouth closed. Talking to Soobin was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. For all he knew, it was all an elaborate scheme the brat had thought up himself.

“Oh, right … You’re ignoring me. You know that’s not going to change anything, don’t you?”

If he wasn’t so intent on pretending he wasn’t there, Seonghwa would have punched him in his infuriatingly cheerful face. How he could mock him at a time like this was beyond him. Maybe that was why he’d been in the hospital. He didn’t have a conscience.

“You can give me the silent treatment for as long as you want, Hwa, but I’m not going anywhere,” Soobin sang, and he had the audacity to fucking skip. 

“The only reason I’m here is because you need me. Imagine where you would be right now if I hadn’t showed up in your life. You’re lucky, really. Some people hallucinate weird old guys or creepy little kids. I’ve even heard of someone creating a three-headed dog that could talk. You must have done something pretty spectacular in your previous life for your imagination to conjure up me.”

“This isn’t funny,” Seonghwa hissed under his breath. He was so angry that if he actually looked at Soobin right now, he was afraid that he might shove him into the path of an oncoming car. “And you’re sick if you think it is.”

Soobin just snorted in amusement, “I’m not the one here who’s sick.”

That was the final straw for Seonghwa. He stopped dead in his tracks and when Soobin turned to look at him, he lunged forwards and grabbed the boy by the face.

“Hey!” Soobin swatted at his assailant’s wrists and tried half-heartedly to wriggle free but Seonghwa just dug his fingernails in and refused to let go.

He could feel flesh. Skin. Warmth. There were pores on his nose, a mole just to the left of his eye,his hair was a frazzled mess from his hair dye. He had imperfections. If he was a figment of Seonghwa’s imagination, surely he would be smooth and flawless. Like he was made of plastic. Like he wasn’t real.

The boy in front of him was 100% real.

“Get off me!” Soobin grunted reproachfully as he finally succeeded in knocking the offending hands away from him. “I’m a fragment of your psyche, you idiot! You created me to be as realistic as possible so that you would never have to find out I didn’t exist. What, did you think I’d be made of candyfloss?”

Seonghwa shoved him away, turned on his heel and broke into a sprint. 

“You can keep running, Hwa!” came the shout from behind him. “But, deep down, you know what you made me for!”

He couldn’t … He wouldn’t … It just wasn’t a possibility that could be put into consideration. It was mad. It didn’t make sense. What had Soobin ever done for him? Nothing. So why the hell would his mind fabricate him if the only thing he existed for was to be annoying?

Now that he was truly thinking about it, he could only ever remember Soobin showing up when he was wanted least. Like when Hongjoong was missing, when Seonghwa was in the hospital … He’d even sent a text just before San got hurt.

But then again, each time, he’d been trying to help. Seonghwa wouldn’t have found Hongjoong in that bathroom if Soobin hadn’t given him the clarity he needed to think. The kid had also been one of the first to identify the toxicity in that relationship. And he’d been trying to remind Seonghwa to breathe through the anger.

How had he known? Had someone told him? Maybe … Maybe Yeosang? They’d met each other at the bowling alley. That was proof! They’d met each other! Yeosang had seen him. But he’d never spoken to him. He’d looked uneasy, too. As if maybe he couldn’t see what Seonghwa was seeing.

No. No, no, no, no. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t possible.

He kept running. 

\------------------------

It was cold as fuck this close to the river and the light drizzle of rain that had started up a few minutes ago didn’t help in the slightest. He had to squint in order to protect his eyes from the shapeless waves of water that the wind blew right into his face.

He hadn’t anticipated being outdoors all day and it had never even occurred to him to grab his jacket when he stormed out that morning, but the one thing he wanted less than to stand here in the freezing temperature was to go back to the dorm.

Time to think was what he needed. Or maybe time to not think at all. He wanted to let his mind go blank, sit there and allow the world to move on around him. He blinked against a few larger drops that splashed onto his forehead and slid into his eyelashes.

It seemed fitting that the sky cry for him.

He tilted his head back and watched the liquid pellets hurtling towards the earth against a backdrop of impenetrable grey cloud. This could be the last time he got to watch the rain. This may even be the last time he got to see the sky.

He could just lie. He could agree with them that Soobin wasn’t real and save himself the trouble, but Soobin  _ was  _ real. He had to be. If he were a figment of his imagination then he would only be able to think the same thoughts as Seonghwa and that kid definitely had ideas of his own.

He had to be real because if he wasn’t, there was only one place that Seonghwa could be headed.

He was under no delusion that Mingi and Yunho could figure this out on their own. He knew that if they’d already told his parents, there was a room back at the facility with his name on it. He would be there for months. Maybe even a year. Or years. Plural. 

Seonghwa would be there until the name ‘Soobin’ was just a jumbled series of grunts and sighs that didn’t make any sense. He would be there until his brain functioned in the textbook definition of normal. He would be there until every last symptom was eradicated. He would be there until the sky fell and Hades froze over.

By some miracle – or by some Song Mingi – his parents hadn’t been alerted, but if the matter didn’t resolve itself soon, he’d be receiving a phone call from a very worried mother and a very pissed-off father.

Letting out a frosty puff of air, he looked down at the alarming number of missed calls that had come through his phone. Mingi, Yunho and Jongho had even recruited Yeosang and, more surprisingly, Wooyoung into trying to get a hold of him. 

They were clearly getting desperate. He should put them out of their misery but, at the same time, he really didn’t want to face them.

_ “Them or the truth, Seonghwa.” _

Soobin’s voice echoed off the cavern of his skull. His infuriating smirk was so clear in his mind that, if Seonghwa were to close his eyes, he was sure he would be able to see him clear as day. But Soobin wasn’t here. Soobin was back on campus.

_ “I’m wherever you need me to be.” _

“Get the fuck out of my head!”

Seonghwa pitched forwards, shoving his fingers into his hair and grabbing fistfuls of unwashed strands as though he could physically tear Soobin’s presence from his subconscious.

The first sob caught him off guard and his elbows almost slipped off his knees with the force of it but now that he’d started to cry, he couldn’t seem to stop. He dug his fingers deeper into his scalp, ripping hair from the roots as he fought the urge to just throw himself onto the asphalt and scream.

This couldn’t be happening.

He wasn’t crazy.

He  _ wasn’t _ .

He couldn’t be.

He was a functioning member of society, just like everyone else.

He couldn’t be crazy.

Could a crazy person go to school? Get good grades? Have friends?

_ “But you don’t … do you? When was the last time you got good grades or made friends?” _

“I have f-friends,” Seonghwa stuttered from between trembling lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple sending him worried glances as they walked past. Now he really was talking to himself.

His phone vibrated against his thigh yet again and he expected it to be Mingi or Yunho but instead, it was Hongjoong.  __

Mingi must have reached peak desperation by now. That meant he was one person away from calling Seonghwa’s parents and he couldn’t let that happen. That would mean game over. Accepting defeat, he sniffled and wiped his face, taking a few seconds to gather himself as if Hongjoong would be able to see him when he answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit … Hwa … Are you okay? Mingi and Yunho are going crazy!”

“I-I’m fine. Tell them I’m fine.”

His voice broke several times during those few short sentences but the silence that followed led him to believe, just for a moment, that he’d successfully fooled Hongjoong. He should have known better.

“You aren’t fine, baby,” came the pitying whisper in reply.

_ Baby. _

Seonghwa knew the word was just inserted in there to appease him but hearing it in Hongjoong’s voice broke him all over again. It ripped his limbs from his body and placed them back all wrong and backwards. He shouldn’t still be feeling this way about the boy who’d hurt him.

“Where are you?”

“I’m fine. Just tell them that I’m fine.” 

“I will, but I need you to talk to me. I won’t tell them where you are if you don’t want me to but I need to know so I can come find you, okay?” 

Seonghwa could hear Yunho in the background. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said but it didn’t sound particularly civilised as Hongjoong told them their friend was okay but that  _ he  _ was the one going out to find him.

“Tell me where you are, Hwa. I’m heading to the car right now.”

He didn’t want Hongjoong to come. He didn’t want to see him. Hongjoong had lied to him. Had lied about him. He’d made Seonghwa a laughing stock yet again. Just when he’d believed that his life was looking up again, Hongjoong had swooped in and tainted it.

Seonghwa had believed for so long that he loved him.

“Baby … please. Let’s talk, okay?”

And that word again. When Hongjoong called him ‘baby’ so softly, even now, Seonghwa felt like he would do anything for him and it was suddenly hard to remember what his ex-boyfriend had ever done wrong in the first place. He knew logically but he couldn’t recall why it had hurt him so much.

“I’m on a bench …” Seonghwa sighed, and his misty breath reminded him that he was freezing his ass off out here for no good reason. “At the river.”

“It’s raining. Go find somewhere to shelter. I’ll be there in ten.” 

Seonghwa didn’t move. He didn’t trust his limbs to get him somewhere dry without betraying him and splaying him all over the walkway to be at the mercy of the sky.

He must have zoned out for the ten minutes that it took for Hongjoong to find him because the rainfall suddenly stopped and he glanced up to see the canopy of a large umbrella.

“Hwa …” came the soft coo. “Can you look at me?”

And, oh, how Seonghwa wanted to but he was afraid that, if he saw Hongjoong’s face again, it would ruin all the false hopes he’d just built. But he had to look and so he lowered his eyes to see the boy he’d believed was the love of his life standing before him.

Since yesterday, his hair had been cut shorter at the sides and was now a deep dark blue instead of that faded red. He was breath-taking: a vision in his adorably oversized turquoise-striped sweater.

Seonghwa’s feelings were at war with themselves. On the one hand, he knew how much pain Hongjoong had caused him but, on the other, he couldn’t think of a single person he’d have rather come for him.

“Come with me, baby. Let’s get you somewhere warm and dry.”

He found himself following along dumbly, just like he had the day Hongjoong had found him shaking and sobbing in the corridor all those months ago. 

He kept his eyes on Hongjoong’s back as he was led to the car and proceeded to stare blankly out of the window for the entirety of the journey, right up until they pulled up to an apartment complex he’d never been in before.

“My dad owns the building,” Hongjoong offered by way of explanation as he opened the door. “I have a unit here.”

Said unit was a little bigger than their dorm with one large bathroom instead of two small ones. It wasn’t decorated, though, and every piece of furniture was sheltered with a plain white sheet. It looked more than a little eerie.

“I don’t come here often. Sit. I’ll get you something dry to wear.” 

Seonghwa just sat in the wooden chair he was guided to, compliant and docile as ever. His brain had apparently decided to take a real vacation for the first time today and he hated himself for suddenly wondering if Hongjoong had somehow injected him with something while he’d been spaced out.

“So … there isn’t much here but I can run out and get you something if you want,” the boy offered once he’d returned with a pile of clean clothes and a towel.

Seonghwa just shook his head.

“Are you not going to speak to me at all?”

His head snapped up and when he saw Hongjoong’s sombre expression, he realised just how silent he’d been since the call ended.

“I – Uh …” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I didn’t realise I hadn’t. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.” 

“For what?”

“So many things, baby,” Hongjoong sighed sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you just apologising because you think my mind is too fragile? Because you don’t want to deal with a breakdown while you wait for Yunho or Mingi to come and get me?”

He wasn’t sure why he was being so hostile. There was no real conviction or aggression behind his words but he could see the flash of uneasiness in Hongjoong’s eyes. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty. If he had the capacity to feel anything at all.

“No, I swear,” Hongjoong promised. “I didn’t tell them where you were. They have no idea. All they know is that you’re with me and you’re safe.”

Seonghwa scoffed, “And Yunho is okay with that?” 

“He’s not but I promised you it would be just me and it is. I’m trying, Seonghwa. Please.”

Hongjoong knelt down in front of him, hands resting gently on his knees. The smell of weed, paint and strawberry conditioned wafted around him, just like it used to. Seonghwa had missed him. He’d missed Kim Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong had always known how to make things better.

“I’m so sorry, Hwa. I never meant for any of this to happen. Any of it … I swear.”

Being with Hongjoong had always helped but there was one thing that would remain weighing heavily on Seonghwa’s mind until he got the answers he craved. One thing that would plague him until somebody finally spelt out the truth.

“Joong … Did you see him?” 

Confusion flickered across Hongjoong’s face before a slow realisation shifted his features, “Soobin?”

“Yes … Did you see him? Is … he real, Hongjoong? Have I been going crazy this entire time? Have I been making shit up in my head?”

He was desperate. He needed to know once and for all. If Hongjoong confirmed his greatest fear – that Soobin had never been seen by a single soul but him – then he might as well just stop. Stop hoping, stop trying, stop living, stop breathing.

“You … Uh …”

“Joong …” he begged. “Please. You have to tell me. They’ll lock me up. They’ll lock me so deep in that facility that I’ll never get out.”

Hongjoong’s eyes bulged and in the space of a heartbeat, he’d straightened up and manoeuvred himself forwards so that he was straddling Seonghwa’s lap.

“Look at me …” He held Seonghwa’s face in his tiny hands and gazed deep into his eyes. “You aren’t crazy, baby. I won’t let them lock you up.”

They were so close. The smell of strawberry conditioner would have been suffocating if it wasn’t so sweet. He could feel Hongjoong’s breath on his face, count the freckles on his nose and see his own face reflected in the wells of his eyes.

“Joong …” he breathed pleadingly. “Soobin …”

“He’s real. He’s just as real as you or me, baby. He was there. He’s always been there.”

Thank God. Thank God, thank God, thank God. Thank God for Kim Hongjoong. Thank God for everything that had ever existed around Kim Hongjoong. Thank God for the truth. Thank God that Seonghwa wasn’t crazy.

But that didn’t answer the question: “Why … Why would Mingi lie to me?”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong whispered, carding his fingers gently through Seonghwa’s hair. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out together. I love you. They won’t take you away, okay?”

He was beginning to sound more and more desperate. Maybe even frantic. His grip tightened on his baby’s face as he pulled him in until their foreheads rested against one another. It was the perfect connection. The perfect feeling. Safety, security, serenity. 

Seonghwa had missed him. He’d missed Hongjoong. Hongjoong had always known how to make things better.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve never once stopped loving you.”

“I …” Seonghwa shouldn’t say it back. There was a reason they’d split up. A reason they weren’t good for each other. But how could something be so wrong when he didn’t feel like he could continue to exist without it. “I love you, too.”

Hongjoong didn’t wait to kiss him. Sweetly. Just like he used to before everything crumbled around them and the world got so much darker. He dove right in to deepen the contact, licking inside Seonghwa’s mouth like he was determined to leave him breathless.

He kissed him with all of that frantic energy that seemed to have been building inside him until his little body shook in Seonghwa’s lap but, even then, he didn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before Seonghwa felt the fingers trailing down his chest and the buttons popping open and, in an attempt to give back what he was receiving, he reached for the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt. He heard the soft sigh of relief.

The moment was so much more blatantly sexual than anything they’d ever done before. They’d kissed and, sure, things had gotten a little heated from time to time, but they’d never talked about going all the way.

And yet Hongjoong still didn’t stop, his hands travelling lower as he continued to kiss him like he would never kiss again.

“I won’t let them take you,” he mumbled against Seonghwa’s lips. “I swear to you.”

By now, they were both shirtless and only then did Hongjoong draw back, still with Seonghwa’s face in his hands as he surveyed him with those gorgeously expressive eyes.

“Do you want to?”

Seonghwa had missed him. He’d missed Hongjoong. Hongjoong had always known how to make things better.

“Yes.”


	18. The Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, God, it's happening. MinYun, it's happening! We're there already!

The first words out of Seonghwa’s mouth when he blinked his eyes open the next morning were, “Oh … shit … shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit.” Eloquent as ever.

He turned his head to the side, slowly, as if that would somehow change what he already knew was waiting there for him.

Across the sea of white sheets, a very topless Hongjoong was still fast asleep. His royal blue hair was mused, splayed across his forehead. His lips were kiss swollen, puffy and pink as if they’d been bitten repeatedly and, oh … shit … was he wearing clothes under there? 

Seonghwa cautiously peeked under his own covers and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his boxers. Not that the thin piece cotton-spandex blend would change what had happened last night, it was just easier to ignore once the … particulars were out of sight.

His underwear hid the evidence of a night spent with Hongjoong. A night spent with the one person within a hundred-mile radius that he really shouldn’t have spent the night with. And he didn’t just spend the night. He – as Jongho would say – did it with Hongjoong.

He felt nausea crawling up his throat and maybe a little got into his mouth but he swallowed it back down and breathed deep against the rising anxiety. He hadn’t been thinking straight. His stupid brain had failed in its one function yet again. 

“Shit … fuck …” He turned slowly once more and glanced over his shoulder, just to see the same results. “Fuck …”

Without giving himself another second to spiral, he swung his legs off the bed and began the shameful morning-after scramble for his clothes and shoes. He’d never thought he’d be the kind of person to run out on a one-night stand.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. He had to find his clothes and he had to leave and he had to do it before Hongjoong woke up. What time was it? How long had he slept? What ungodly being had possessed him to make a decision so utterly stupid yesterday?

His clothes were dry so that was something. He had no real recollection of last night but he must have showered or something because his own hair and skin gave off a muted version of Hongjoong’s signature strawberry scent.

“I thought we had a fucking deal,” Seonghwa hissed at the ceiling.

He didn’t know which God in particular he was addressing because, if he was being honest with himself, he’d made deals with almost all of them at this point and yet none of them had considered stopping him from doing this.

Thinking about it made it worse. It was one mistake he was sure would bite him in the ass sooner rather than later but he couldn’t stop to process it right now. He didn’t want to process it at all.

Trying desperately not to make a racket as he simultaneously pulled up his jeans and shoved his feet into his shoes. His shirt was only halfway on before he tripped out of the door and winced as it slammed shut behind him.

There was nothing he could do if Hongjoong woke up now but Seonghwa definitely did not want to face him so he rolled his eyes, muttered a curse, gave an exaggerated stretch and started to run for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days.

Hermes would be proud. It was quickly becoming a new habit. 

By the time he got back to the dorm, it was almost time for the first class of the day. He had a free period but he knew for a fact that both Mingi and Jongho were clocked in for lectures at nine on the dot which was why it was so worrying to hear yelling from the other side of the door.

Seonghwa froze, feet glued to the floor and key halfway out of his pocket. He’d known they were going to be angry but he hadn’t been prepared for this. He wasn’t even in the room yet and they were already screaming.

“I told you we shouldn’t have let him go!” Yunho was shouting, and Seonghwa could almost envision him pacing up and down. “He said he would find him and bring him back and now look!”

“He wouldn’t hurt him, Yunho,” came Jongho’s reasoning in response. “Hwa was probably just too out of it to do much more than get in a car and fall asleep. They’ll call.”

“And what if they don’t? Huh? What if Hongjoong  _ did  _ do something to him?”

“Like what? What would he do that you’re so afraid of?”

Seonghwa fumbled with his keys, desperate to get the door open and put an end to this conversation before anyone revealed or admitted anything they shouldn’t be revealing or admitting. He wasn’t fast enough.

“He’s already drugged him once,” Mingi said, so quietly that Seonghwa almost didn’t hear it. “Who’s to say he’s not going to go one step further.”

There was the unmistakable sound of Yunho choking on his own saliva, “He … He fucking did what?”

Seonghwa slammed his key into the lock with as much force as possible, deliberately jangling the metal to alert them to his presence and therefore shut them the fuck up. He heard the bolt slide back and threw his shoulder against the wood so that he broke through with a clumsy stumble.

The three of them were just standing there, staring at him like they’d never seen him before. Mingi’s eyes were a little red and Jongho’s hair was dishevelled like he’d been running his fingers through it without relent but Yunho just looked angry.

So, so, so angry that Seonghwa seriously considered turning around and running right back down the hallway. He lowered his gaze to where his friend’s hands were clenched into fists and felt his gut turning to ice.

He was fairly confident in saying that Yunho would never hit him but, then again, he’d been fairly confident that he never wanted to speak another word to Hongjoong and that hadn’t exactly turned out as planned.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted in a pathetic attempt to appease. “I … I didn’t mean to … I just … I panicked and I didn’t know what to do … I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me … I …”

Yunho stormed forwards and Seonghwa had to resist the urge to flinch backwards but just when he thought he was about to get a fist in the face, he got two huge arms wrapped so tightly around his body that it felt like his ribs were going to break.

“I hate you,” Yunho whispered in his ear, but the strength of the bear hug and the hand cupping the back of his head said otherwise. “I fucking hate you. Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

He pulled away before Seonghwa could even return the embrace, choosing instead to seize his friend by the shoulders so that he couldn’t even attempt to look away. For a second, he just checked him up and down like he was searching for injuries but then he rested a hand against Seonghwa’s cheek.

“Please stop trying to give me a heart attack.” 

Seonghwa could only nod. The guilt festering inside his gut was like cement, steadily burning through his intestines while his heart pumped poisoned blood around his body. He felt like, any minute now, they were going to join the dots and realise what had happened between him and Hongjoong.

Mingi shoved Yunho aside so he could take his turn with a very brief hug.

“I have to go,” he murmured as they drew apart. “But I love you and I’ll make some time to watch a movie with you this evening. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Mingi pressed a slightly-too-long kiss to his forehead before wriggling past him and out of the door. Jongho clasped his shoulder and followed, leaving Seonghwa at the mercy of Yunho’s maternal instincts and mollycoddling tendencies.

He was chivvied over to sit down on the couch while Yunho fetched his medication and poured him a bowl of cereal. Only when Seonghwa had swallowed the pills and forced at least half of the soggy mush down his throat did he dare pose the question he must have been itching to ask for a while.

“What happened, Hwa? Where did he take you?”

“Just some apartment that his dad owns,” Seonghwa shrugged, gaze on his lap. He was afraid that if he made eye contact, Yunho would see the truth oozing out of him. “It was nearer than the dorms and he said he wanted to get me warm quickly.”

Yunho needed to stop asking questions or else Seonghwa was going to slip up and one thing this boy could not know was that he’d slept with the person he wasn’t even supposed to be in the same vicinity as.

“And why didn’t you call us? Either of you?”

Because they’d been a little busy doing something they really shouldn’t have been doing.

“We … erm … He was making some food and I fell asleep. It just didn’t occur to either of us and there didn’t seem to be a point in moving when we were already good for the …”

“Did he touch you?” Yunho interrupted, his voice suddenly dropping several tones.

Seonghwa couldn’t shake his head fast enough, “No. He … Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Neither of us did anything.”

He hated the idea of his friends having this image of Hongjoong in their heads. Like he was some cruel sadist who enjoyed drugging and taking advantage of people in vulnerable states of mind. Hongjoong hadn’t done anything wrong last night. He’d asked for consent and Seonghwa had given it.

The fact that he now regretted it didn’t mean he could start pointing fingers and making accusations. 

“Seonghwa,” Yunho breathed, angling himself sideways on the couch so that he was in a better position to take both Seonghwa’s hands. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He knew. How did he just always know? A million different emotions that Seonghwa couldn’t identify were bubbling up inside of him and suddenly his vision was fuzzy and his eyes were wet and there was nothing he could do but sit there in some kind of soggy stupor.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly.

“It’s too much,” he croaked and, just like that, he folded.

Soobin. Real or not real? He no longer had the capacity to make an unbiased decision. Hongjoong. Boyfriend or not boyfriend? He knew that he loved him but also that they were unhealthy together. Dangerously unhealthy. So unhealthy that they’d both ended up in the hospital because of each other.

He should never have said yes last night. It was stupid and irresponsible and reckless and now Hongjoong was in his head even though he was on his pills and he wasn’t sure that he was ever going to be able to get him back out again.

“Come here,” Yunho murmured as he reeled Seonghwa in for the kind of hug where he had his friend’s chin resting on top of his head and he felt so safe and secure that he could just cry shamelessly into his chest. “It’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now but it’s going to be okay.”

That was pretty hard to believe when everything seemed so bleak. He didn’t know who he trusted, who was lying to him or why. He had an imaginary friend that he wasn’t sure was even imaginary and an ex-boyfriend that he wasn’t sure was even an ex.

And now he’d run away again. What would Hongjoong think when he woke up to an empty bed and not even a note to explain why? The last time something like that had happened, he’d taken an overdose. Would he go down that same route? Or would he start spreading more rumours about how Seonghwa really was in bed?

“I love you, Hwa,” Yunho whispered over the sound of the sobbing, buttering Seonghwa’s hair with kisses. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

The rest of the morning was actually quite bearable, an unfamiliar concept after everything that had happened. Once Seonghwa had finished crying into the front of Yunho’s shirt and had taken a long –  _ long  _ – shower, they headed down to the library so Yunho could go over his notes.

Seonghwa sat beside him, arms folded on top of the table and nose buried in the crook of his elbow, listening to the gentle hum of the heating system and the occasional swish of a page being turned. He allowed himself to doze and drift without having to think about a single thing.

Every now and then, Yunho would rub his back or give his hair a stroke, as though he was reminding him that he wasn’t alone. It was inordinately comforting.

Yunho brought some sandwiches from the vending machine and coaxed Seonghwa into taking a few bites but he didn’t shove it down his throat. Seonghwa knew that he’d found out about the whole drugging calamity and that they were going to have to talk about it at some point but for now, Yunho just let him be. His friendship and his loyalty were worth more than words could express, particularly at times like this.

They stayed that way, without saying a word, for probably a good two or three hours before Yunho rested a hand on the back of Seonghwa’s neck and gently reminded him that he had a class starting at one.

“I know,” he hummed when Seonghwa let out a muffled groan of protest. “But it will help take your mind off stuff.”

He was right even if Seonghwa didn’t like it. Suppressing yet another disgruntled moan, he lifted his head from his arms and blinked a couple of times to adjust to the startling bright library lights.

Just as he was helping Yunho gather his books, however, one of Hongjoong’s so-called “friends” – the same one who’d been grilling him for intimidate details on his sex life – just so happened to walk past at that very moment. And Seonghwa saw his eyes light up. And his lips curve in a mischievous smile.

“Mars!” he cheered, spreading his arms wide as if he was greeting a brother when, in reality, Seonghwa had never willingly held a conversation with him. “It’s nice to see you out and about! You know, I thought you’d be embarrassed to show your face after that little episode in the cafeteria.”

Seonghwa felt like he was withering from the inside out. He kept his eyes down and his hands busy shuffling papers but he would have been lying if he said his heart wasn’t thudding in his throat and his eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears of humiliation.

Now he remembered why he hadn’t wanted to talk to Hongjoong.

“I never would have pegged you for a good one in bed, Mars,” the boy continued in a voice far too loud for library conversation. “If you ever want to step it up a notch, just know that Hongjoong’s nothing compared to –”

“Keep talking,” Yunho growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I dare you.”

The guy looked a little affronted. He quickly recovered, trying to cover it up with a smirk of condescending amusement but Yunho didn’t blink and his fury certainly didn’t falter. That was when the guy realised just how thin the ice he was walking on appeared to be.

“I’ll see you around Mars,” he sniggered in an attempt to keep up his untouchable façade but the speed with which he walked out of the library was indication enough of his fear.

Yunho sucked on his teeth and linked his arm with Seonghwa’s, giving him a gentle tug towards the door.

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your class.” 

He’d turned his phone on silent just so that nothing would be able to disturb his little nap time but now he couldn’t resist tugging the device from his pocket. He would regret it later but he wanted to see what they were saying about him on social media. How far the rumours had spread. 

He never got there, however, because the moment that he turned his phone on, the screen was bombarded with text after text after text. They popped up so quickly that Seonghwa couldn’t even read a single word before the next one came in. 

Still walking with his arm hooked through Yunho’s, determined to hide the evidence of his treachery, he opened up his messages even though he already knew who they were going to be from. There was only one person they could be from. 

_Hwa where did you go?_ **[8:31]**

 _Are you okay?_ **[8:33]**

_ Please baby just come back  _ **[8:34]**

_We can talk about this_ **[8:34]**

 _I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you_ **[9:13]**

 _Please don’t be mad at me_ **[9:19]**

_ Why aren’t you answering my calls? _ **[9:37]**

_Baby I’m really worried now. Please call me back_ **[9:58]**

_ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me _ **[10:04]**

_I love you Hwa_ **[10:12]**

 _And you love me too right?_ **[10:13]**

 _I’m freaking out Hwa please call me_ **[10:22]**

 _I’m sorry_ **[10:45]**

 _I’m sorry_ **[10:45]**

 _I’m sorry_ **[10:45]**

 _Please_ **[10:46]**

 _You’re my whole world Hwa_ **[10:50]**

 _I can’t live without you_ **[10:51]**

 _Please don’t leave me_ **[10:55]**

It went on and on. Hours’ worth of pleading and begging, guilt-trips and false promises. Hongjoong had clearly been deteriorating emotionally since the moment he’d woken up to find Seonghwa gone and the messages got steadily more and more worrying as time progressed. 

The last one was the worst, sent almost forty-five minutes ago. 

_ How am I supposed to live if you can’t even talk to me? _

“Give that here,” Yunho commanded, snatching the phone from Seonghwa’s grasp and pocketing it. “You don’t need to deal with that ever again.”

“But what if –?”

He didn’t even know what he was going to say. What if Hongjoong tried to hurt himself again? What if he wrapped his car around a telephone pole because he was so distraught over being abandoned that he wasn’t focused on the road ahead? What if something happened to him and Seonghwa spent the rest of his life blaming himself for it? 

“You don’t need to deal with that,” Yunho repeated sternly as they finally stopped outside the lecture hall. “Let me worry about it, okay? Just keep your head down and focus on taking notes.”

Seonghwa wanted to protest further but he should have known it would be no use. Yunho had said that he would handle it and that probably meant he was going to call Yeosang to track Hongjoong down and get him to sober up and that was about as good a deal as he was going to get. 

“Look at me,” Yunho purred, taking Seonghwa’s face in his hands. “Are you going to be okay? Because I can skip out on my class and stay with you if you need …” 

“No,” Seonghwa said with a smile he hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Don’t miss out on Professor Kwon’s terrible jokes because of me. I’ll be fine.” 

He had no way of knowing if that was true but since Yunho had his phone, he wouldn’t have anything to focus on other than his need to save himself from failing the semester. He had to believe that Hongjoong had enough people to take care of him. 

“Okay. I’ll be back at the end of class to pick you up so wait for me, alright?”

“Alright.”

Yunho kissed him on the forehead – he seemed to be doing a lot of that these days – and gave him a gentle push through the door into the hall.

That was the last time Seonghwa ever walked away from him. 

\-------------------------

Exactly twenty-six minutes into the lecture, the door burst open, cutting Professor Moon off mid-sentence and rendering the entire class struck dumb with shock.

Because when Hongjoong stumbled over the threshold and immediately started scanning the bleachers for any sign of his target, it would have been clear even to the blindest eye that he was high out of his fucking mind.

“Excuse me?” Moon blurted as she abandoned her presentation and strode towards the intruder. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing but you are not in my class and therefore I’m going to need you to –”

Hongjoong’s dilated pupils locked on Seonghwa halfway up the bleachers and his face split into a crazed grin of triumph. If Seonghwa wasn’t so numb with astonishment, he probably would have been scared of what was about to happen.

“Excuse me!” Moon repeated indignantly but Hongjoong paid her no mind as he pushed her none-too-gently out of the way and lurched up the stairs two at a time.

Not once did his eyes leave Seonghwa’s face and as he got closer and Seonghwa continued to remain paralysed in his seat, the true extent of his condition was fairly obvious to ascertain. He was sweating, erratic and that maniacal grin seemed to be plastered permanently over his face.

Cocaine.

Seonghwa’s heart felt like it was going to explode with the speed at which it was beating. He jumped out of his seat and moved forwards to intercept Hongjoong, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to hold him steady even though the boy seemed determined to shed as much energy as possible.

“Joong …”

“You’re here!” he gasped breathlessly. “I found you. I found you, I found you, I knew I’d find you.”

He reached for Seonghwa’s face and Seonghwa instinctively retreated a step, relinquishing his own hold on the kid’s shoulders. Hongjoong’s grin faltered for a split second at the rejection but then it was right back where it was and even wider still.

“You just lost your phone, right?” he panted. “That’s why you didn’t call me or text me back. You just lost your phone. You weren’t ignoring me. You wouldn’t do that, right? You wouldn’t do that to me?”

Seonghwa’s tongue was frozen to the roof of his mouth. Everybody was staring at them, Professor Moon looked like she might be calling campus security, somebody was actually pointing a phone in their direction, probably filming, and Hongjoong was definitely not okay.

“I love you, Hwa. I’ve never loved anybody as much as I love you. I’ll never love anybody as much as I love you. Last night was … It was amazing and I know that –”

A couple of students in front of them burst out laughing and that was when Seonghwa got his voice back.

“Joong, not here,” he pleaded in a desperate whisper. “We can’t do this here.”

He didn’t want to do ‘this’ anywhere but if he was going to have to hold an incredibly awkward conversation with his incredibly intoxicated ex-boyfriend, it most definitely could not take place in a packed lecture hall in front of an entire class and its professor.

“Oh,” Hongjoong gasped as he lowered his decibel and glanced around with those bloodshot eyes. “Right. Not here. Okay. Let’s go.”

His fingers locked around Seonghwa’s wrist so tight that it would probably leave bruises and he immediately started tugging his prize back down the stairs. And Seonghwa complied only because he couldn’t bear the thought of staying in this room a second longer.

“Seonghwa –” Moon started, her brow creased in worry, but he held up a hand to placate her.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he mumbled through a wince of pain at Hongjoong’s roughness. “I’ll do the work to make up for it.”

Somebody behind him, one of the assholes, gave a loud wolf whistle and a whoop of, “go get ‘im, Joong!” that immediately had the rest of the class sniggering at Seonghwa’s expense. He dropped his gaze to the floor and quickened his pace, still trying to loosen the grip that Hongjoong had on his wrist.

He allowed himself to be hauled through the door and out into the hallway before he dug his heels in and brought them both to a stop.

“Hongjoong!” he shouted through the sudden burning in his throat. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Hongjoong just stared at him, completely non-plussed. As though it was just customary to snort an illegal drug, assault a faculty member, interrupt a lecture and drag one of its students away.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

And then the boy went one step further. He actually giggled like a little kid who’d gotten away with stealing the last cookie.

“I know, right?” he wheezed, still holding Seonghwa’s arm in a vice-like grip as he shuffled forwards until their noses were almost touching. “Now everybody knows how much I love you. And it’s not like you needed that class anyway.”

Seonghwa choked on his own words.

The guy was completely nuts.

“Come on,” Hongjoong buzzed, practically skipping off down the hallway with a cackle as Seonghwa was forced to follow. “I may or may not have told my professor to go fuck himself and spilt paint all over his desk so I’m pretty sure campus security are after me.”

Seonghwa didn’t know how he was supposed to react. Everything was so overwhelming and he was torn between wrenching his arm free so he could run back to the dorm where Mingi would wrap him in his arms and dragging Hongjoong into an empty classroom so that he could call for help. 

But Yunho had his phone and he couldn’t leave Hongjoong like this. It was dangerous. He might try to drive or throw himself off a rooftop because he thought he could fly.

And didn’t Seonghwa owe him this? For all the times he’d abandoned him and left him hanging out to dry? He’d hurt Hongjoong on too many occasions to let him down when it was clear that he needed him most.

This was one of those screams for help and Seonghwa was not going to ignore it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, I'm just curious but has anybody picked up on what's happening to Joong yet?


	19. The Cliche Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like that meme where the guy presses the computer key and then immediately sprints out of the room. 
> 
> tw// EVERYTHING

Hongjoong took him to the bridge. He wouldn’t let Seonghwa drive and he babbled the whole way there about how they were going to spend the rest of the day together, just sitting and chatting like they used to. It was a miracle they stayed on the roads and it was a huge relief when the car finally screeched to a very illegal stop in the centre of the tarmac.

“Joong …” Seonghwa started but Hongjoong was already tumbling out of the vehicle and vaulting over the hood so that he could open the other door. “Can you please just slow down for a second?”

Why did he even try that with someone on cocaine? 

“Slow down?” Hongjoong crowed in disbelief as he tugged Seonghwa out of his seat and down the embankment before he even had a chance to close the door. “Why the fuck would I slow down? You wanted to get out of there, didn’t you? Well, we’re out of there. No one knows about this place. No one can interrupt us. We can say whatever we want as loud as we want.”

They reached the underside of the bridge and Hongjoong finally let go, twirling around on the spot with his arms spread wide and his face turned upwards as he screamed his joy at the sky.

“I love Park Seonghwa!”

It would have been romantic if everything wasn’t so scary.

“Come on, baby!” the crackhead laughed. “Your turn! As loud as you can!”

This was all so wrong. Forced. They’d been together a hundred times while Hongjoong was high but this time, things were different. This time, things weren’t okay. Maybe he’d snorted too much or maybe it was just months’ worth of pressure finally bubbling over but something was going to happen.

Seonghwa could feel it.

He shouted Hongjoong’s name to the clouds only because he wanted to keep him happy, hoping against hope that his partner didn’t hear the fearful crack in his voice. He knew he’d gotten away with it, though, when his hand was once again seized and he was dragged underneath the bridge.

“Sit, sit, sit, sit!”

He sat, back against the brickwork, knees pulled up to his chest while Hongjoong crouched in front of him.

“You remember this place, right?”

“Yeah … Yeah, I remember.”

“Good memories?”

“Yeah, Joong. Good memories.”

Hongjoong beamed just before his legs seemed to give out and he flopped down onto his butt. Seonghwa watched him releasing a long breath from between pufferfish cheeks and attacking his hair until it resembled more of a bramble bush.

His high must be starting to come down.

“Joong …” Seonghwa tried again, a little less nervous now that he knew the rush was wearing off. “What’s going on? Is this about last night? Because I’m sorry for leaving you. I just panicked. And my phone was off. I swear, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Hongjoong let out a weak chuckle, “I know, baby. I’m sorry, too. I was just terrified that I’d gone too far and chased you away just when we had a chance of getting back together.”

Seonghwa swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sure if he would call last night “getting back together” but he could understand where Hongjoong was coming from. The shame and terror of opening your eyes and discovering the person you slept with gone. Wondering if you’d done something wrong. If it was your fault or theirs.

“Hwa?”

“Yeah?”

“Why does everybody leave me?”

It felt like the breath was knocked out of Seonghwa’s lungs with just that simple sentence. Hongjoong’s pupils were still saucer-sized but he was definitely starting to come back to himself and, somehow, that hurt even worse.

This was how he really felt.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa whispered, shuffling forwards so that he could take Hongjoong’s hands. “I … I’m not leaving you. Not again. Okay?”

He’d been so blind. Everyone was so wrapped up in taking care of him and making sure he was okay that they’d neglected to do the same for Hongjoong. Because Hongjoong was sick. That much was clear to Seonghwa now. Maybe even sicker than he was himself.

“Hwa!”

Seonghwa’s head swivelled towards the source of the call and he had to suppress a groan at the sight of Soobin jogging over to them. He looked exactly the same as he always did. His hair was perfectly shaped, his clothes weren’t even ruffled and his face was just as irritating as ever.

“You can’t be here, Hwa,” he panted as he skidded to a stop and braced his hands on his knees. “It’s dangerous for you. You have to get up and start walking right now.”

“Fuck off,” Seonghwa snapped, startling Hongjoong into a yelp that had him adding, “Not you.”

Soobin shook his head frantically, eyes switching between the two people in front of him even though only one of them was acting like he was actually standing there. Maybe that was what had it finally clicking in Seonghwa’s head.

For days now, he’d been living in a state of denial even though he knew deep down that what his friends were saying was true, but it felt like the time had finally come where he had to stop lying to himself.

“I know you’re in my head, Soobin!” he shouted, ignoring the comical way that Hongjoong tried to find what he was looking at. “So cut the bullshit and leave me alone! I’m busy talking to someone who’s real.”

“Hwa …” Soobin breathed, and for the first time in Seonghwa’s memory, he looked hurt. “Please, just listen to me. We can talk about this later but right now you need to move. Just get up and run. Don’t look back. Please, you have no idea …”

“Go away!” Seonghwa screeched with his whole chest. “I don’t need you! I don’t want you! So go away!”

Hongjoong grabbed hold of his chin and pulled his face towards him, “Baby, are you okay?”

Seonghwa nodded and turned his attention back to Soobin … but there was no Soobin. The place where he’d been standing was now empty, not even a footprint left behind. He was gone and now there was this feeling of emptiness in the pit of Seonghwa’s stomach.

“Yeah …” he whispered, still looking from left to right as though expecting the boy to suddenly leap out of the shadows. “Yeah, I’m … I’m okay.”

He hadn’t realised getting rid of that leech was so easy. He just needed to tell him he was neither needed nor wanted. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? 

“Is he gone?”

He looked at Hongjoong. Hongjoong just always seemed to be able to read his mind. Maybe that was some kind of sign. Maybe he should listen to it. Maybe he should shunt aside everything that had ever happened between them and accept that he had never felt this way about anyone else.

He and Hongjoong were meant to be from the moment they were born. No one else was going to understand him like Hongjoong. No one else was going to love him regardless of his flaws and issues. Hongjoong had proved time and time again that, although he could be bad at showing it, he was devoted to Seonghwa through and through.

“He’s gone,” Seonghwa murmured. “It’s just you and me now.”

Because that was all either of them had ever and would ever need.

A phone began to ring and Seonghwa reached for his pocket only to remember that Yunho had confiscated it. Hongjoong, however, already had the device in his palm and the name of the caller was visible typed across the centre of the screen.

Mingi.

“You should answer it,” Seonghwa said as he saw Hongjoong reaching for the DECLINE button. “He won’t stop calling until you do.”

By now, the others would know what happened. One of the popular kids had gotten high and snatched the campus laughing stock from a lecture. News like that would spread like wildfire and both Mingi and Yunho would probably continue losing their minds until they were put at ease.

“Just tell them I’m okay.”

Hongjoong still looked uneasy but when Seonghwa reached out to squeeze his hand, he smiled and accepted the call. It was like setting off a bomb.

“Hello?”

“KIM HONGJOONG!” came Yunho’s mama-bear roar from the other end of the line. “WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?” 

The two of them under the bridge shared an amused expression as the voice was drowned by a scuffle, several curses, some indistinct yelling and then Mingi took over the conversation.

“Hongjoong …” He sounded terrified. Absolutely terrified. And suddenly nothing about this was funny anymore. “Hongjoong, is Seonghwa with you?”

“Yeah!” Seonghwa called out. “I’m here, Mingi, and I’m fine!”

“Tell us where you are,” Mingi demanded at once. “Please just tell us where you are. We’re not angry or anything but we need to know where you are.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth to respond but Hongjoong pulled the phone away before he could do so, holding it up to his lips so that the others would be able to hear the hostility in his tone even with the poor reception.

“Why?” he hissed. His eyes were moist. “So that you can tear us apart again? We’ve both had enough of you sticking your noses where they aren’t wanted!”

He looked so angry. Seonghwa couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen him like this. He was practically shaking with rage, a single tear beginning to pry its way out from between his eyelashes.

Seonghwa hadn’t realised just how terrified he was of being alone. If he had, he never would have allowed any of this to happen in the first place.

“Hongjoong, please,” Mingi was begging. He sounded like he was crying, too. “I … I know you’re in pain right now but … please … don’t do this. Okay? Don’t hurt him.”

What?

“Is that what you think?” Hongjoong spat, leaping off the ground so that Seonghwa had no way of calling into the phone. “That I’m some twisted, abusive psycho? That’s all you’ve ever seen me as, isn’t it?”

Seonghwa had no idea what was going on. Hongjoong had slipped up and made some shitty decisions but he had never consciously caused his boyfriend any harm and he’d never indicated that he intended to do so either.

So why would Mingi believe otherwise?

“I will never hurt him!” Hongjoong shouted. “Unlike you, I actually care about him! All you’ve ever tried to do is keep him away from me. Well, guess what, motherfucker? He loves me. He wants to be with me and you prying us apart hasn’t done anything except mess with his head. You’re the one who’s hurting him! Not me!”

He looked Seonghwa dead in the eye as he said it, his jaw set and his brows drawn together. If the situation wasn’t so bewildering then it would be kind of hot. But it was hard to be turned on beneath a bridge in the middle of winter.

Especially when his sort-of-boyfriend-sort-of-ex seemed to be having some kind of fight with his best friend over the phone. Over him.

“Hongjoong!” Yunho was back. “If you lay a finger on him, I swear to God –”

He was cut off, both by whoever was restraining him and by the bitter laugh of mirthless incredulity that Hongjoong barked out at his words.

There was definitely something that Seonghwa was missing here.

“Give me the phone!” somebody else started shouting. “Give me the motherfucking phone!”

“Joong,” Seonghwa warbled nervously. “Baby … What’s going on?”

Hongjoong ignored him in favour of listening to the conversation’s newest arrival: Jongho.

“Joong, listen to me,” the youngest said. He was by far the calmest so far. He wasn’t yelling like Yunho and he wasn’t sobbing like Mingi. Whatever they were trying to do, he was the one who had the best chance of doing it. “We found the note.”

Note? What note?

Utterly bewildered, Seonghwa tried scanning Hongjoong’s face for any clue as to what was happening but the only thing he got for his efforts was a blank slab of emotionless shock. The boy seemed to have stopped functioning and now he was just standing there with the phone trembling in his grip and his eyes unblinking.

“And we’re sorry,” Jongho continued sombrely. “We didn’t understand how important Seonghwa was to you but we get it now and we’re sorry. We never should have tried to interfere. It wasn’t our place to tell you what you can and can’t do.”

Seonghwa needed answers and he needed them now. Why was this beginning to sound like some kind of ransom negotiation? 

“Joong, I think you’re sick. I think you might have something called borderline personality disorder. Do you understand? The way that you feel isn’t your fault, okay? It’s just the chemicals in your brain reacting to things wrong. You’re not a bad person.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted, “I only tried to help him. That’s all I ever did and you people treated me like I was beating him up!”

This was breaking Seonghwa’s heart but he couldn’t get himself to move. Only watch. He’d had no idea that there was a name for what Hongjoong had but surely that was a good thing. Surely it meant that they knew how to help him now.

“I know,” Jongho was soothing. “We were wrong. We weren’t listening then but we are now. Okay? We can get you what you need and nobody’s going to try taking Hwa away from you. You can stay together but, please, Joong, you need to tell us where you are.”

Hongjoong let his arm flop down to his side, phone still curled in his fingers, as he brought his other hand up to swipe the tears from his face. His shoulders were shaking and that was what made Seonghwa get off his ass and go to him.

“Baby,” he muttered, hooking his hand around the back of his love’s neck and pulling his face into his shoulder. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you help, alright?”

“No!” Hongjoong suddenly exploded, wriggling out of Seonghwa’s arms and gazing up at him with those huge leaking eyes. “Don’t you see what they’re doing? They’re manipulating me just like they manipulated you! The moment we tell them where we are, they’re going to split us up again. They’ll put you back in the facility. They might put me there, too. They don’t want to help us and they never have! Nobody does!”

“That’s not true!” Jongho shouted but his voice was too far away now that the phone was hovering somewhere near Hongjoong’s hip. “Joong, none of that is true, okay? You’ve been hurt so many times that you can’t trust anyone and I get that but it’s not Hwa’s fault. You need to let him go.”

“Let him go?” Hongjoong echoed, bringing the phone back up to shout into the speakers. “I’m not holding him fucking hostage, Jongho! He can walk away whenever he wants to!”

They locked eyes and Seonghwa shook his head.

“I’m not walking away.”

Hongjoong blinked a few more tears out before addressing the phone once more, “You hear that? He said he doesn’t want to leave me. He’s the only person who’s never going to leave me and I won’t let you take him away! I’d rather die!”

“Hongjoong, wait –!”

But Hongjoong had already hung up the phone, tossed it aside and stumbled into Seonghwa’s arms.

“Thank you,” he sobbed as Seonghwa clung to him just as tightly. “Thank you for not leaving me. Everybody leaves me. My mum doesn’t love me. My dad would rather I was never born. San, Wooyoung … Even Yeosang’s dating Mingi now. I can’t lose anybody else. I can’t be hurt again.”

“You won’t be,” Seonghwa promised him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not losing me.”

They could do this. Together. They could take care of each other, keep each other in check, encourage one another to go to therapy sessions and remind one another to take their medication. It would be wonky and strange but they could make it work.

They could love each other, no matter what anyone else said.

“We’re crazy,” Hongjoong wept, still with his face buried in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. “Both of us. Even if we ran away, they’d find us and they’d lock us up.”

He was right. Seonghwa was hallucinating. Hongjoong was clearly about as stable as a house of cards. As soon as a psychiatrist took one look at the pair of them and the unhealthily co-dependent relationship they’d formed, they would start filling out the paperwork.

There was no way they could escape from that.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Seonghwa mumbled, not waiting for an answer before he slipped his hand into Hongjoong’s and led him back to where they’d been slumped before. “Everything feels a little too overwhelming right now.”

They settled themselves down on the hardened earth, Hongjoong with his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder while their fingers remained interlocked between them. The shorter of the two was still sniffling periodically, no matter how tightly Seonghwa squeezed his palm.

What was left for them here? What did they have going for them? They were kidding themselves if they thought people like them were going to graduate college and Hongjoong’s little escapade would most definitely have gotten him expelled anyway.

They weren’t headed anywhere. No job would take them. No employer would glance at their resumes and think ‘ah, yes, I’ll take the crackhead and the nutcase on board. Nothing will ever go wrong there’. Were they just supposed to rely on other people to survive for the rest of their lives?

Was that their destiny? To constantly be a burden? To drag their loved ones down into the depths with them so that they could all drown together? What kind of life was that? That wasn’t a life worth living. That wasn’t an existence to be proud of.

So why were they still trying? 

“Joong?”

“Yeah?”

“What were they talking about when they said ‘note’?”

Hongjoong sighed, tiny hands pawing at the snot and spit on his face. His oversized sweater and messy hair made him look a little bit like a fluffy blue dormouse. It was adorable.

“I was going to kill myself.”

Not adorable anymore, but Seonghwa had been expecting as much. Hongjoong must have been spiralling for weeks now and nobody had stopped to try and understand why. They’d just blamed him for things that were out of his control. 

“I got high, wrote the note and left it on my bed,” Hongjoong continued, seemingly finding in the way Seonghwa stayed silent while he talked. “I was going to drive here and do it straight away but then the cocaine kicked in and I thought it was a good idea to find you first. Maybe it was the way I worded it but I think they figured that I was going to kill you, too.”

He laughed as though the idea was so ludicrous that it was funny and Seonghwa smirked a little, too. The concept of Hongjoong ever deliberately hurting him was so far beyond realistic that it was impossible not to.

“What were you going to use?”

Biting nervously on the inside of his mouth, Seonghwa watched his world reach into his pocket and pull out a white bottle of over-the-counter sleeping medication. Each pill was worth ten milligrams. It wouldn’t take too many to ensure that sleep never ended.

Hongjoong turned it over in his palm, staring at it almost wistfully. Like he was resenting the turn things had taken in his plan. He probably regretted pulling Seonghwa out of that lecture because now it meant there was somebody to stop him.

Not that Seonghwa could find a reason to do such a thing. If he went back to that facility, he might as well be dead. That option was certainly more appealing. There was no way he was returning to the same four white walls, dietary plans and twenty-four-hour supervision.

And Hongjoong seemed to feel the same way.

“Let’s do it,” he blurted suddenly, popping off the cap and tipping a handful of pills into his palm. “Together.”

“W … What?”

Surely that was crazy. A double suicide? That stuff only existed in cheesy movies that wanted to avoid the cliché endings. No matter how bleak everything looked … 

What was he even trying to say to himself?

There was no light at the end of this tunnel. There was no scenario in which he and Hongjoong would be allowed to stay together without taking those pills and dying here in the dirt, side by side. The others were already looking for them. Once they were found, it was over.

It seemed to be the only way. The  _ only  _ way. No matter which direction they turned or how far they ran, they were always going to end up right back where they started: trapped in a world that could only see them as problems that needed to be solved.

“You know I’m right,” Hongjoong continued, tears tracking down his cheeks as he swivelled to face Seonghwa. “They don’t want to help us. They’re going to lock us up. So what’s the fucking point? At least … At least, this way, we’ll be in control. It’ll be like a big ‘fuck you’ to all of them!”

“But … But San …”

He’d promised Wooyoung. He’d said he’d get his life back on track. If he did this, he was insulting San’s death. That boy didn’t have a say in what happened to him but they did and yet they were the ones who seemed to be making the choice that society considered to be wrong.

“Baby, San’s lucky,” Hongjoong breathed. “He gets an easy out. He gets to leave this fucked-up world behind him and no one will be mad at him because of it. And … And we’ll get to see him again someday, right?”

He sounded crazy but, fuck it, wasn’t Seonghwa crazy, too? That was why they were in this mess. If they didn’t take the wheel and steer themselves off the cliff then they would spend the rest of their lives in the passenger seat while somebody else dictated what they did, what they ate and where they went.

They would call it an ‘intervention’. They would pretend they were doing it for the benefit of their subjects but Seonghwa knew that was all bullshit. Nobody gave a fuck if he died. Everyone died. It was the circle of life and all that stuff.

People would be sad but then they’d move on. They’d become those inspirational people that everybody looked up to. Maybe it would even help them. Mingi and Yunho would be boosted through on sympathy and special allowances. His parents would get as much paid leave as they wanted.

And it wasn’t like he was bringing them any joy.

They were better off without him and he was better off without a heartbeat.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hongjoong echoed with that watery smile of his, grabbing Seonghwa’s hand and emptying the drugs into them. “Okay. It’ll just be like falling asleep, alright? It’s not going to hurt or anything. It’s just like going to sleep.”

Seonghwa nodded as he stared down at the mound of little circles that were steadily powdering his fingertips white. They looked so innocent. It was hard to believe that just washing them down his throat with a glass of water would be enough to end his life.

“Hey,” came the softened whisper as a hand cupped his chin and lifted his face. Hongjoong had his own handful now. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He didn’t know. Did he? Did he want to die right here? Underneath a bridge in the middle of nowhere while his friends went mad searching for him? He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye to anyone.

But maybe that was better. He hated goodbyes. They hurt. And this bridge was  _ their  _ bridge. It meant something to Hongjoong and it meant something to them as a couple. No one else knew where they were and they wouldn’t find out until it was too late.

Really, if they were going to do this, there wasn’t anywhere better, and it wasn’t like either of them would be leaving this world alone. They had each other. That was all they were ever and would ever need.

“Yeah,” he croaked hoarsely. “I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong repeated, squeezing Seonghwa’s thigh in reassurance. “It’ll be okay. We’re going together. Right? We’re going together.”

He raised his palm to his mouth and Seonghwa mirrored him, neither of them breaking eye contact with one another. They needed to look at each other or else they would chicken out and, if they did that, they would regret it when they were each locked in their own padded cell.

It took a few swallows and their throats burned from repeatedly forcing dried powder down their gullets but, eventually, their hands were empty.

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what he expected but he didn’t feel any different. His heart was pounding and his eyes were watering but he wasn’t afraid and he wasn’t sad. He was relieved. He’d finally done it. Nobody was going to walk in this time and call an ambulance.

Hongjoong rested a hand against his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss, each of them smudging powder on the other’s lips. Without opening their eyes or taking their hands off one another, they moved to lie down in the dirt with their foreheads pressed together. 

“I love you, Joong.”

“I love you, too.”

And not a single god above or below thought to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, congratulations to the two people in the comment section who guessed Joong had BPD. I'm going to go hide in a dark cupboard now. Please don't kill us


	20. The Friend They Deserved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// ALOT OF THINGS  
>  also... bodies

Yeosang rubbed his temples as he waited nervously for Wooyoung to call him back.

He hadn’t felt this hopeless in a long, long time. It was a sensation he hated above all else but also one that he’d grown used to as a result of being friends with Hongjoong. 

They’d known each other since high school and Yeosang had known from day one that he was consorting with a complicated soul. In fact, the first time they’d ever met was when Hongjoong was in the school bathroom smoking weed with San and Wooyoung.

They’d insisted that it was just cigarettes and Yeosang had never confessed to them that he knew the truth. He’d always known the truth. They all kept up their drug habits for years but while San and Wooyoung usually kept it simple with Xanax, weed and ecstasy, Hongjoong had always been a lot more experimental.

Yeosang couldn’t say he’d ever been so much a friend to Hongjoong as a constant presence.

He’d never tried to stop any of them from doing what they needed to do to cope. Whether it be San’s headaches or Hongjoong’s emotionally abusive parents, Yeosang just stood by and watched. And this was the result.

Years of allowing this to go on had resulted in two people he’d grown to care about potentially making the biggest mistake of their lives.

Beside him, Yunho puffed out a breath as he flipped Seonghwa’s phone over in his hands a couple of times before reopening the messages app as if the texts there would have magically changed while the device was turned off.

Yeosang had already seen all of them and he knew there weren’t any clues hidden in Hongjoong’s panicked words.

He’d been careful this time.

San could usually find him no problem whenever he got high and ran away but San wasn’t here and Yeosang had never been the friend that he should have been. He was once again left hopeless in a situation involving Hongjoong and it didn’t sit right with him.

“I shouldn’t have taken this from him,” Yunho whispered for the umpteenth time. “He could have sent me his location. He could have texted me the moment Hongjoong came into that lecture hall.”

Yeosang left him to musing. He hated himself for not being of more help but that had always been Jongho’s area of expertise. Jongho would have said something insightful and useful. He would have been able to comfort in a way that Yeosang never could.

Yunho took two handfuls of his own hair and growled at the countertop, “We should get out here and drive around.”

Mingi and Jongho had already gone out to check the two apartments Hongjoong owned in town while they stayed behind to try and get hold of Seonghwa’s parents. They’d all been trying to stay as calm as possible but, as time ticked on, their patience had started to wane.

“Just wait. Wooyoung will tell me what he finds out.”

Yeosang tried to keep his voice levelled as he spoke but he could tell a little hysteria was succeeding in making its way through. He could feel it building in his chest and clogging his throat. He should have been a better friend.

“I shouldn’t have taken his phone,” Yunho repeated yet again.

Yeosang was getting restless, too, but driving around without a destination in mind wasn’t going to help anyone. They would probably just end up getting further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa than if they’d stayed put.

Wooyoung’s name finally lit up the screen five minutes later and Yeosang could feel Yunho practically vibrating beside him as he picked it up and accepted the call.

“Okay …” Wooyoung’s tiny voice filtered through the speakers. “Don’t get mad but you have to call Han.”

Yeosang couldn’t say that he hated a lot of people but he actually did hate Han Jisung.

That weirdo had been Hongjoong’s drug dealer for years and no matter how many times Yeosang tried to get him to stop, the kid just shrugged and said, “Business is business”. He’d called Han once to tell him that Hongjoong had overdosed on one of his experimental cocktails and Han had just laughed, snorting a half-hearted “yeah, that happens” before hanging up.

Yeosang thought Hongjoong went to Han because he hoped that, one day, one of the dealer’s concoctions would actually end his life. Han just liked the fact that someone was reckless enough to try his death traps.

“Why can’t you call him?” Yeosang groaned. 

“Because I’m three hours away and Han is the only one who knows where Hongjoong could be.”

“Why would he know?”

“Because Joong has a hiding spot where he goes to do his hard stuff and Han goes there to sell it to him so do you want his number or not?” Wooyoung’s voice had taken a certain edge and Yeosang could hear San in the background, weakly begging him to calm down. “No … This is bullshit. Why does he get to do this shit?”

Yunho finally stopped pacing and clenched his jaw, glaring in the direction of the phone as if it had done him a personal wrong. 

It was Yunho who’d had to sit Wooyoung down and explain to him that the aggression was one of the side effects of Seonghwa’s illness. It was unfortunate that he and San had ended up being the ones to bear the brunt of it but that wasn’t Seonghwa’s fault.

His brain was sick, just like San’s. The difference was that San had always had options that he just hadn’t taken and that wasn’t his fault but Seonghwa had never had those options. It wasn’t his fault either.

It was all Hongjoong.

“Hwa isn’t to blame for this, Woo,” Yeosang said, taking the phone off speaker and turning his back on Yunho.

From the other end of the line, he heard Wooyoung exhaling, loud and long, before there was a rustling sound and San took over the call. 

“He knows that and he’s sorry. Take Han’s number, Sangie. Just … try … please.”

San sounded much the same. His voice was still soft and firm. He never stuttered and he spoke his mind but Yeosang had a video call with the two of them a few days ago and he knew San was getting thinner, frailer, weaker.

That boy had always had a complex about being too skinny. He went to the gym and ate his weight in junk food in an effort to combat his metabolism. It must be hard for him to see all that work go to waste. To know that it didn’t matter how hard he’d tried to take care of his body because he’d been dying all along without realising it.

The reality that one of Yeosang’s oldest friends wasn’t going to be around much longer somehow hurt more than if he’d just gone out in a car accident or something. All the waiting around wasn’t going to give any of them time to accept it.

Yeosang didn’t think he would ever learn to accept it.

“Text me the number,” he finally said, because San had asked him and he couldn’t deny San a single thing.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for a conversation with his least favourite person on the planet, and held the phone out as it rang. Yunho had resumed his pacing and, frankly, it was making Yeosang dizzy but he didn’t say anything about it.

The door opened to reveal Mingi and Jongho had returned and Mingi huffed out a frustrated, “he isn’t there” before anyone could ask.

“I think it’s time we called the police,” Jongho said.

“And Hongjoong’s father,” Yunho added. 

“This is Han,” came the lazy voice from the phone, once again causing Yeosang to not believe in the phrase ‘don’t get high off your own supply’. He just hoped for all their sakes that he wasn’t too intoxicated to answer their questions.

“Han. It’s Yeosang.”

“Lord Boop’s mother! How the fuck are ya?”

Yeosang resisted the urge to clap back with a curse, “Han, where’s Hongjoong?”

“The fuck should I know? He bought some sleeping pills off me earlier and that was it.”

“Where do you usually go to sell him the stuff, Han?”

Han just chuckled, as though enjoying the desperation in Yeosang’s voice as he taunted, “What do I get out of this?”

“Han …” Yeosang growled but Mingi plucked the phone out of his hand before he could finish, turning away from the rest of the group so that he could talk in private.

Yunho was once again manhandling his poor hair, “How long has it been?” 

“About twenty minutes,” Jongho answered solemnly.

“How long does … sleeping pills … how long will it take?” Yunho stuttered out the question even though he most likely didn’t want to know the truthful answer.

“It depends on a lot of things but the sooner we find them the better.” 

“I know where he is,” Mingi announced abruptly, handing Yeosang back his phone and snatching up his keys. “Yunho, take my car. I’ll go with Sangie.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a bridge. Just follow me.” 

There was no dawdling. No filibustering with technicalities. They sprinted out to the cars, Yeosang tossed Mingi his keys and they took off without further ado because, as they were all painfully aware of, time was something they didn’t have. 

The roads were wet from the earlier rain, forcing Mingi to slow the car to an anxiety-inducing crawl. Yeosang knew he was having to prioritise their safety. Especially Yunho’s. Having him drive behind them in this state wasn’t exactly wise but Jongho was by his side and Yeosang had full confidence in his brother to keep a handle on the situation if need be.

Mingi stopped at a light and reached over to fiddle with the radio. On the outside, he seemed calm but his hands were trembling violently.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered.

“We’ll find them,” Yeosang assured him, and his boyfriend smiled but it was just a shaky twitch of his lips that broke Yeosang’s heart.

Mingi had such a young spirit. He was reliable and responsible, sure, but he was also just a big kid trying to enjoy the few years of youth that he still had left before he went to med school and the serious studying began.

He’d known Seonghwa for years, had cared about him for years, had needed to become an adult overnight in order to keep him safe. Both he and Yunho had lost out on their childhoods for that same reason. 

They had a chance at getting them back now, but at what cost?

“I know we’ll find them … but …”

“But what?”

“Han said he gave Joong a Valium cocktail that he makes himself. It’s fast acting and we’ve already been at it for half an hour.”

Yeosang swallowed, biting back a curse, “Yeah, Joong likes Han as a dealer because he always gets unique shit. Maybe his body is used to it. It might not affect him too badly. He might be okay.”

“But Seonghwa won’t,” Mingi clenched his jaw. “He’s already on five other types of medication, one of which is an anti-depressant. Those should never be mixed with cocktails.” 

His movements were growing more unsteady. The way his fingers fumbled with the commands and the sweat-stains on the steering wheel were testament enough to that. He was truly terrified and no matter how hard he tried to hide, Yeosang could see it. 

“So you’re saying we’re too late?”

“I’m saying … Especially for Yunho’s sake, that I hope we get to them before they do anything stupid.”

Stupid was Hongjoong’s middle name. He wouldn’t give up a chance to take drugs. Any drug. And if Seonghwa was with him, Hongjoong’s playful silver tongue could convince him to go over the edge with him. 

It wouldn’t take much persuading. From what Yeosang knew, Seonghwa was already bordering on suicidal if he hadn’t crossed that line already. He may have the sense of mind to hesitate but, so long as he and Hongjoong were alone together, that hesitation wouldn’t last long. 

That was Hongjoong did.

He could talk his way out of anything. He was childlike and mischievous and he always got his way. In high school, they’d called him Pan. Like the storybook about the boy who never grew up and stole the souls of the people who trusted him.

Seonghwa didn’t stand a chance.

Yeosang tried not to think of the many ways he himself had been manipulated by Kim Hongjoong due to his naivety. Not that Hongjoong was a bad person. He’d just been suffering for so long that he was no longer concerned about consequences.

“Why for Yunho? Why not you?”

Mingi hummed, “I love them. I love them both more than I love myself sometimes.”

“Not likely,” Yeosang scoffed. It was a poor attempt at humour and he wasn’t surprised when Mingi didn’t even quirk a smirk.

“I know …” he said without taking his eyes off the road ahead. “But … I do, and Yunho would probably give his left nut for Seonghwa.”

And now it made sense. Yunho had always been the most protective. If he could get away with it, he’d probably never leave Seonghwa’s side. The hugs, the kisses, the cuddles and the constant arguments with Hongjoong were all starting to fit together now.

“He loves him …” Yeosang whispered. “Like …  _ loves  _ him.”

Yunho didn’t just love Seonghwa. He was  _ in love  _ with Seonghwa.

“Loved him since we were kids,” Mingi nodded, his voice cracking on that last syllable. “They were each other’s first kiss. Yunho cried for a week after that. He said Seonghwa laughed in his face but he still came to his bed every night. It hurt him. He couldn’t even tell him because he knew he didn’t feel the same.”

Yeosang couldn’t imagine it. It must have been so painful for Yunho to spend so much time with someone he was in love with and know that they’d never return his feelings. He’d had to watch Seonghwa date and kiss other people and had never been able to throw his hat in the ring.

Yeosang loved Hongjoong but Seonghwa was a fool for giving someone like Yunho up.

He and Hongjoong didn’t even know each other. They’d kissed once and suddenly Hongjoong was gushing about how in love they were. Yeosang and Mingi hadn’t even said the ‘L’ word to one another yet. They’d only been dating four months.

Four months … It had only been four months. It felt like years. 

“There!” Mingi pointed, pulling the car to a stop beside the small red C-Class Benz that was parked horizontally across a short stretch of asphalt just off the road with both its front doors gaping open.

Yunho and Jongho slowed to a halt behind them and Yunho was out of his seat before the engine had even stopped idling.

“This is Joong’s car, right?”

“Yeah,” Mingi confirmed, pivoting on the spot as he looked around. “But I don’t see the bridge.”

“Well, it has to be around here somewhere.”

He started jogging in the direction of the overgrown bushes at the end of the road. It was dark, cold, wet and eerily quiet. If Hongjoong and Seonghwa were indeed out here then they weren’t moving. There was no scenario in which that was a good sign.

“Call his phone,” Jongho said, and Yeosang wasted no time pulling out his cell to dial Hongjoong’s number.

An 8-bit version of ‘ _ La Cucaracha’  _ started up somewhere in the direction of the bushes near Yunho and they all lurched towards it, following the sound of the unfortunate legless cockroach. The light from Jongho’s phone illuminated the overgrowth and the bank they’d missed from further down the road.

“Down there,” Mingi muttered under his breath, leading the slide down the side of the embankment to the dimly-lit underside of the bridge.

The structure looked far too unstable. The stones were crumbling and the stench of rotting wood was overwhelming but none of that seemed to matter anymore the moment that they laid his eyes on Seonghwa’s body.

Yunho got there first.

Even in the dim yellow glow, Yeosang could see how colourless the boy’s face was. How pale his lips seemed in the eerie blankness of his features. He was almost grey and the veins were visible from where they were pushing up beneath his skin.

The books and the movies lied. It looked nothing at all like he was sleeping. Yeosang had seen Seonghwa sleep. He wasn’t sleeping. His eyebrows were pinched as if he was in pain and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a slight frown.

“Hwa?” Yunho choked, skidding to his knees in the mud and heaving Seonghwa’s body up against him.

His chin rolled onto his chest and his limbs just flopped. At the very least, that meant that rigor mortis hadn’t yet set in so, at the most, he’d only been dead a few minutes.

“Hwa … Baby … We’re here,” Yunho kept trying, cupping Seonghwa’s face and shaking it. “Wake up. Mingi and I came for you.”

It took Mingi a few more seconds to pull himself together from where he was standing stock still and stunned at the bottom of the incline. For all the medical training he’d received and how unaffected he usually was, Yeosang realised that this was different.

This was Seonghwa in front of them right now. His friend of twelve years, unconscious and colourless on the ground, probably already having crossed over to meet whatever god he prayed to. 

Mingi flung himself to his knees and jabbed his fingers beneath Seonghwa’s chin.

“Come on, Hwa,” he whispered, eyes closed.

Just as they were all waiting for the verdict, a retching sound made all their heads snap in the direction of the other end of the bridge. Jongho started towards it and Yeosang hesitated for a moment before hastening to follow.

Hongjoong was hunched in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he regurgitated the contents of his stomach into the dirt. 

“Joong?” Jongho called as he and Yeosang closed the gap between them, but there was no response so he tried again, louder. “Hongjoong!”

This time, the boy in front of them flinched and curled even tighter.

“Joongie, it’s me,” Yeosang told him as he squatted down until they were on the same level. Hongjoong looked up at him with wide, vacant eyes that swam with tears and undeniable fear. “It’s Yeosang.”

“Sangie …” he croaked. His vocal cords sounded like they’d been grated to shreds, patched back together and then grated again.

“Yeah, it’s me, Joongie.” 

The boy let out a sigh – whether it was due to pain or relief, Yeosang didn’t know – and leaned heavily against his friend’s chest. His entire body was shaking with tremors and spasms and there were soft groans creeping up from deep within his throat.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Jongho whispered, and that may have been the worst possible thing to say at that moment. 

Hongjoong shot up to his feet so fast that he almost broke Yeosang’s jaw with his own skull, stumbling wildly with his arms thrown out for balance. He was unsteady but quick in the way he scrambled back under the bridge and straight to Seonghwa’s side.

“Joong!”

“I won’t let you take him!” Hongjoong shrieked, throwing his body on top of Seonghwa’s, looping his arms around his middle and tugging him out of Yunho’s grip before anyone could stop him. “He’s mine. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. You can’t take him from me!”

“Jongho?”

“I’m calling them.”

“Joong, stop. We’re trying to help him.”

“No,” the addict mumbled groggily, still clinging to his prize even as the light in his eyes started to fade. “You’re trying to take him away. He’s … He’s …”

He faded out, slumping forwards onto Seonghwa’s body as he lost his fight with reality. Yunho was merciless in the way he shoved him off, glaring at the boy he believed was responsible for all of this.

“Well, at least one of them’s responsive.”

He looked about ready to reduce Hongjoong to a pulp or beat him back to consciousness just so he could beat him unconscious again. If Yeosang wasn’t kneeling between them as he tried to shake his friend awake then he would probably give it a decent try.

“Okay. They’re on their way. Seoul Private isn’t far from here so they should make it soon,” Jongho valeted, and his voice cracked on almost every syllable.

Only then did Yeosang properly look at his brother for the first time since they’d arrived.

He could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’d heard Jongho scream or cry or even seem out of sorts in the way he spoke and held himself. He was strong in body and mind and Yeosang had always looked up to him in that respect, despite being older, but now he could see all the cracks in his façade.

He could see Jongho ripping at the seams at the sight before him and Yeosang may not have been able to be the friend this group had needed back then but he’d be damned if he wasn’t the big brother that Jongho needed right now. 

Content with knowing that Hongjoong was at least breathing, he clambered to his feet and pulled the kid’s face into his shoulder. Jongho resisted for point five seconds before giving in and surrendering to the sobs that wracked his body.

He was so young. He shouldn’t have to see this.

“It’s okay to break sometimes,” Yeosang whispered into his ear, feeling the nod against the crook of his neck as the boy burrowed deeper into where he felt warm and safe.

“Lay him flat,” Mingi was saying, and Yeosang glanced over Jongho’s shoulder to see him and Yunho repositioning Seonghwa so that they could start chest compressions.

It was probably sending them all hurtling back in time to when they’d been crammed into that filthy locker room while Hongjoong lay on the tiled floor with a system full of PCP. 

“His heart …” Yunho muttered, staring blankly as the med student’s arms flexed. “He … just … his heart stopped.” 

If it were possible, Seonghwa looked even paler. Even his hair looked pale.

Hongjoong moaned in warning just seconds before vomit splattered up from between his lips and onto his face and neck, running down the sides of his cheeks until it collected in the shells of his ears and trickled into his hair.

“Turn him on his side,” Mingi grunted breathlessly, still pumping his arms up and down on Seonghwa’s chest.

Yunho looked like he would rather eat that vomit than stop Hongjoong from choking on it but he complied begrudgingly and roughly turfed the boy over.

Jongho tightened his grip and Yeosang put a hand on the back of his head, making sure that he couldn’t look up and catch a glimpse of what was going on. He couldn’t believe he was only now realising that he could have protected his brother better. 

“Come on, Hwa,” Mingi gasped as he stooped down to breathe life into lungs that had already been starved for too long. “Come on. Don’t do this to me. That’s not fair. That’s not fair. Come on, Hwa.”

Yunho seemed to have given up. He’d done a good job so far of hiding his tears but now they streaked down his cheeks in torrents and he buried his face in his hands to hide from the image of one of his friends having to keep the other’s heart beating with force alone.

“Hwa …?” Hongjoong gurgled, and Yeosang saw the muscles in Yunho’s jaw strain at the sound. “Is he okay?”

Hongjoong’s eyes were barely open but he still stretched out a hand in Seonghwa’s direction, the only thing propping him up on his side being the knee that Yunho had shoved into his back.

“Hwa … baby … Tell me he’s okay …”

“I can’t … I can’t do this.” Yunho broke.

He mumbled something about waiting for the ambulance before storming back up the embankment with his eyes still watering fiercely.

With nothing left to keep him there, Hongjoong rolled off his side and onto his back. Yeosang couldn’t go to him because he still had Jongho in his arms and for the first time in weeks, he truly wished that San was here instead of off receiving treatment like he should be.

San was the friend they all deserved to have in situations like this. San was strong and smart and helpful and Yeosang had never been the friend – or the brother – he should have been.

Mingi surfaced after another round of mouth to mouth and let out a scream of frustration as Seonghwa’s chest continued to refuse to move. He raised a fist and pounded it against the boy’s sternum, a horrible cracking sound echoing off the bridge’s brickwork, but there was still nothing.

“Come on!” he roared as he went back to the compressions, vision probably completely obscured by his own tears. “Please! Please, God, please! I need him! I need him please! Bring him back to me! Bring him back, you fucking bastard! Bring him back!”

Yeosang closed his eyes, buried his nose in Jongho’s hair and finally permitted himself to crumble. 


	21. Worse Than Death

Being alone had always bothered Hongjoong.

Maybe that was why he was constantly surrounding himself with so many people. People he knew didn’t give two shits about him. People he knew weren’t really his friends. He was always flocked by them at school but he still felt so lonely.

The only times he truly felt at ease was with Yeosang, Wooyoung and San.

And then with Seonghwa.

He was never lonely when he was with Seonghwa. Seonghwa was his everything. He didn’t know where that began but he sure as hell didn’t want to end. He remembered seeing him for the first time at one of those boring business exposés. He’d given a long, tedious presentation that had half the crowd yawning but the faculty had eaten it up.

The entire time, though, Hongjoong was more interested in his sculpted cheekbones and perfectly proportioned body.

He went home to sketch Seonghwa that night but he could never get the nose quite right.

Then the miracle boy had disappeared for a while and Hongjoong heard the theories here and there but he never really concerned himself with such things so he didn’t bother listening to them. No sooner had the rumours of his death started to spread, Mars showed back up on school campus and the rest was a beautiful and wild four-month history.

It had ended two days ago.

The overpowering scent of pine sol and bleach stained the air alongside a light metallic smell that could be anything from stainless steel to blood. The air filter was obnoxiously loud, someone was screaming a few doors over and the constant clacking of the keyboard from the nurses’ station was driving him up the wall.

He wasn’t fooling anybody with his faux sleep but he kept his eyes shut anyway.

It was just easier to do so than to show the world that he was awake and have to deal with the consequences of what he’d done.

He’d woken up not long after they finished pumping his stomach and inserting the tube to drain the fluid he’d inhaled from his lungs, but he refused to acknowledge the fact that he was still in the land of the living.

They’d fitted him with a catheter so he hadn’t exactly needed to move for the last two days he’d been lying there and none of the nurses had tried to wake him up again after the first time they took his vitals.

Vitals that were fine. He was fine. The beeping next to his head kept the truth solidified in his mind but he refused to open his eyes and accept it. He didn’t want to be alive in the first place.

The police would be waiting for him if he woke up. His father would be waiting for him. Yunho would be waiting for him. The only person he was sure wasn’t on the other side of his eyelids was Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was gone. He was sure of it. He saw him die before his own traitorous body decided to expel the poison he’d ingested. Seonghwa was gone and he wanted to be, too.

There must be ways for him to still do this. He could cut a vein, ask for pain meds, he could hang himself. No matter how slow or painful, he would do absolutely anything just to be with Seonghwa again.

Tears leaked from between his closed lids and he heard someone tut gently before a warm thumb wiped them away.

“Shh, it’s okay, Joongie. Open your eyes for us,” the person coached softly and Hongjoong was almost tempted to see who that voice belonged to. It was soft and it was firm.

But it wasn’t Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s voice was lower, deeper and huskier. His dialect came through on certain words or when he was excited and his tongue poked out when he was confused and his nose wrinkled whenever he found something he didn’t like and …

More tears crawled from Hongjoong eyes and, this time, he blinked in order to clear them away.

“That’s it, Joong. Wake up.”

He sighed heavily as he finally realised who that voice belonged to.

San was sat just to the left of his head. Thin, cold fingers brushed across his face as he blinked the world into focus. A familiar smile shone through the darkness but it was tainted with something Hongjoong recognised as sadness.

He hated sad smiles.

“He’s awake,” San said softly, looking up at something out of sight just before Wooyoung walked into view.

“Joong? Can you hear me?” 

He nodded.

“S-Seonghwa …” His voice tried its hardest to fail him but he needed to know. He had to be aware of what he’d caused even if it was going to break him clean in half.

Wooyoung’s face fell. He looked down at San and put a hand on his shoulder as though silently seeking comfort that San provided in the form of a set of long fingers that curled around his own.

“Not now, Joongie,” the boy with the brain tumour murmured, using his free hand to stroke streaks in Hongjoong’s hair. “Let’s wait until you’re a bit more coherent, okay?”

His arms were stick thin and his usually full head of hair was sparse and dull. His lips were chapped and he had lines around his eyes that weren’t there when he left. He was starting to look less like their best friend and more like the dying kid that the doctors told him he had to be.

“San?”

“Shh,” San cut him off, still running his fingers over his patient’s scalp. “Sleep a little more. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Hongjoong didn’t have the strength of mind to resist. 

\--------------------------

The next time he awoke, the sun was setting.

The only window in the room didn’t exactly have a view unless the leafless tree and the darkened sky beyond it counted for anything. The shadows from the naked branches reached across the room in hopes of catching a piece of Hongjoong’s long-gone soul.

At least, he felt like his soul was gone. He’d spewed the blackened remains of it under the bridge that night. The night he convinced Seonghwa to lose his life.

“You’re awake.”

Closing his eyes and ignoring Mingi, who stood with his ominous presence in the corner of the room, wasn’t an option so he rolled his head on the pillow and met the boy’s blazing eyes.

“M-Mingi, I …”

“Here.” A glass of half-melted ice chips was shoved into his hand. “You sound like you ate sand.”

Mingi was joking with him. Surely that meant that he was okay, right? And if Mingi was okay then everybody else must be, too, right? That meant that Seonghwa must be okay. Seonghwa had to be okay.

“What happened?”

Hongjoong winced as soon as the words left his lips. He knew what happened. What he was intending to ask was what had happened to the love of his life.

“You tell me, Joong,” Mingi’s voice was soft but the anger in his words was ill-concealed. “You tell me why you would do something so selfish and stupid. You tell me why you thought it was okay not just to fucking kill yourself, but to take my best friend with you.”

“Mingi, I –”

“Shut up,” Mingi snapped. Apparently, the question had been rhetorical. “There isn’t anything you can say that will take back what you did.” 

Hongjoong obediently clamped his mouth shut. Mingi was angry. He’d been on the receiving end of that before. But the blank sensation of nothingness, of not knowing what was going on outside of these four walls was starting to shred his nerves to ribbons.

“Where are San and Wooyoung?” he asked tentatively, unsure whether there was a possibility of triggering some kind of raging eruption.

But Mingi just ignored him, choosing instead to sink into the plastic chair next to the bed and bury his weary face in his hands. He used to be laughing constantly. Smiling constantly. When was the last time anyone had seen him do either of those things?

“Mingi … please … tell me something … anything.”

Mingi glared at him, “I’ll tell you when the others get here. I just can’t right now, Joong.”

The thought of all his friends seeing him in this state and knowing full well how royally he’d fucked up was nothing short of terrifying. Jongho was still just a little kid. Yeosang was too innocent to be exposed to this side of the world. San was sick. Wooyoung was stressed enough as it was.

Yunho would tear him apart.

“How could you do this?” Mingi whispered, almost as though he were talking to himself.

“You were going to take him away from me.”

Mingi clicked his teeth in frustration, “No one was taking anyone away from you. What we were doing was giving our friend a chance at a normal life and you ruined that.”

“But you stopped him from seeing me,” Hongjoong hissed, feeling the anger start to bubble in his bones. “You tried to take him away and convince him that –”

“He wasn’t yours to begin with, Hongjoong!” Mingi finally exploded, head snapping up to reveal the tears he must have been trying to hide. “He was safe. He was stable. We were taking care of him and then you came along and suddenly he’s off his meds, drowning in waterfalls, attacking his friends and … and … and trying to kill …”

His throat seemed to close up, preventing him from finishing what he’d been trying to say, and Hongjoong felt himself withering beneath the hospital blankets.

Of course, he knew there’d been a difference in Seonghwa’s behaviour before and after they met each other but he was trying to fix that. He’d only ever done what was in his boyfriend’s best interests and sometimes it had gone wrong, he could accept that, but he would never –  _ never  _ – hurt him deliberately.

“Mingi, I –”

The doors burst open, cutting him off midsentence as the rest of their friendship group filed into the room, Yunho bringing up the rear with a thunderous expression supporting his clenched jaw and balled fists.

None of them looked particularly heartbroken so that had to mean that Seonghwa was okay, right? Hongjoong knew he was grasping at straws, picking up on every possible indication even if they meant nothing, but he was still in the dark and it was a horrible feeling.

Yunho’s face was harder than Hongjoong had ever seen it and Mingi didn’t seem to want to look at him. If the others weren’t here then there would probably be a pretty violent bust-up on the way.

Wooyoung was holding San’s arm for support but Mingi quickly noticed the unsteadiness in the boy’s stature and got up from his chair so he could pass it over to the person who really needed it. No sooner was San settled, he reached out and took Hongjoong’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s just get this out of the way,” he said softly before glancing up at the medical student among them. “Mingi … Please tell us all the doctor stuff.”

Mingi looked like he couldn’t think of anything worse but he drew in a shaky breath on command, fixed his eyes on a spot of blank wall so that he wouldn’t have to see anyone’s reactions and started to talk.

“Hwa’s in a medically-induced coma. They had to put in a shunt because his brain was swollen. They pumped his stomach and one of his kidneys shut down but they’ll take him off the sedative tomorrow. He should wake up on his own but there’s no way of knowing if he’ll still be able to walk, speak, swallow or even remember his own name. He was legally dead for over forty-five minutes. The chances that he comes away from that without suffering severe neurological deficits are slim to none.”

Hongjoong hadn’t realised he was crying until San stroked the tears from his face. And even then, he couldn’t tell if he was feeling relieved or overwhelmed.

Seonghwa was alive. That in itself was a reason to celebrate. But he was in a coma. They’d inserted something into his brain to stop it from bulging out of his ears. One of his organs had failed. He could be permanently disabled for the rest of his life.

It begged the question: was being alive really worth all of that?

“As for you,” Mingi continued, turning his gaze on Hongjoong as San held his hand a little tighter. “There were too many illegal drugs in your system for me to be able to sweep it under the rug like I did last time. I managed to call in a few favours but you did also hold someone under duress and attempted a murder-suicide.”

What? Murder? No … They’d made a deal. Seonghwa had given his consent. Murder? No!

“I-It wasn’t … I … he said he wanted …”

“That’s not going to matter very much, Joong. Everyone saw you come to school high and drag him out of class. It’s not looking great for you.”

Hongjoong couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He hadn’t kidnapped Seonghwa. They’d left together. They’d been planning to die together. Nothing about that was illegal, right? It was meant to be a double suicide. That wasn’t murder.

He wasn’t a murderer.

“There is one other option,” Jongho interjected from where he was sitting on the other side of the bed, leaning into Yeosang. “Have your lawyers plead insanity and take a psych test. I’m pretty sure you have grounds for temporary insanity and a case that says you aren’t in your right mind.”

But he wasn’t insane.

“They’ll lock him up,” Wooyoung pointed out.

“But he won’t be in prison and he’ll actually be getting the help he needs,” Jongho countered.

Prison. Suicide. Duress. Temporary insanity. They thought he was crazy. They thought he did this because he was crazy. They were going to label him as one of those nutcases who snapped and tried to stab their loved ones to death.

“You’re doing it again!” he cried, bolting into a sitting position and snatching his hand away from San’s. “None of you are trying to help me!”

He wasn’t crazy and Seonghwa was alive. They couldn’t take him away again. He would never get him back this time. Nothing he did or said or was would ever be good enough to convince them that Seonghwa needed him just as much as he needed Seonghwa.

“Joong, we’ve only ever been trying to help.”

“No!” Hongjoong shouted, pointing his finger right at Yunho’s face. “All you’ve ever tried to do from day one was split us up so that you could have your turn.”

He pushed himself to his knees and surged forwards only to be yanked back by a pair of handcuffs that secured his wrist to the safety railing. How had he not noticed those were there? They rattled pathetically when he tugged on them and it just made him laugh.

“You really are trying to sell this story, aren’t you? I’m some criminally insane person who tried to kill your friend.”

“Joong,” Yeosang tried as he shuffled closer to the bed. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? You’re siding with them, aren’t you? I knew you’d end up choosing them over me! I knew you were going to toss aside years of friendship the moment you started fucking him!” he gestured wildly towards Mingi before turning the subject of his tirade onto Yunho. “And you … It never would have been you. Whether I was in the picture or not, it was never you.”

He laughed again. Full belly busting sounds with heaving shoulders and tears in his eyes. He laughed when he saw the doors open and the orderlies stream into the room. He laughed as his ‘friends’ were ushered out and he laughed as they stuck his arm with the sedative and laid him back onto the bed.

His laughter slowed, then died.

And then all he was left with were tears.

Why was it that both joy and sadness could make people cry?

“We aren’t mad, Joong,” Mingi said from somewhere by the door. “You’re sick and we’ll be here when you need us.”

And Hongjoong was left alone again. 

\------------------------

Seonghwa didn’t look like Seonghwa anymore.

There was a thick plastic cylinder protruding from his mouth that branched off into two separate tubes, each of which seemed to be connected to a different machine. There was a long strip of white tape stretching over his top lip, keeping the intubation tool firmly secured between his lips.

He couldn’t breathe without it.

A thin yellow wire was threaded up one of his nostrils, another piece of tape keeping the other end pinned to his cheek so that it wouldn’t get in the way of any of the other tubes or needles while it did whatever job it was supposed to do.

Mingi had said something about it supplying nutrients in place of the food that Seonghwa couldn’t eat in his comatose state.

His head was propped up with two pillows and angled to the side so that the large padded dressing stapled to one side of his scalp wouldn’t be disturbed. Beneath that was the long ugly scar left behind by the surgeons who’d shoved a shunt in his brain to drain the fluid that had been building up there.

There were numerous catheters sticking out of his hands and the insides of his elbows. A blanket had been placed underneath him and then bunched up so that the rolls of fabric could keep his arms from touching his torso. Something about preventing bed sores.

He had a hospital gown covering his body but he wasn’t wearing it. It was merely draped over his chest and shoulders, preserving his dignity but also leaving his chest easily accessible should the doctors need to perform an emergency procedure or restart his heart.

His eyes were closed but it was blindingly obvious that he wasn’t just asleep. It was blindingly obvious that he wasn’t just going to wake up and everything would go back to normal. It was blindingly obvious that nothing about this was okay.

Yunho was scared to touch him. Every part seemed like it was connected to a different machine and if even a feather landed in the wrong place, his entire body would just shatter into a thousand fragments or wasting muscle tissue and dying skin.

“Do you remember …” Yunho murmured, using the tip of his index finger to stroke back and forth over an exposed bit of Seonghwa’s arm. “… when we were fourteen and they made us do a book review of ‘Huckleberry Finn’ in our English lit class?”

He smirked at the memory, glancing up to check his friend’s reaction before he remembered that there wasn’t going to be one. His eyes burned and he had to clear his throat to ensure his voice didn’t crack.

Even if Seonghwa couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t start crying right now.

“And Mingi basically did the entire thing by himself because you and I were too busy laughing at how stupid his name was.” He sniffed. “Eventually, he got so fed up with us that he asked Ms Lee if he could do the project on his own and left us to fend for ourselves.”

He could remember it like it was yesterday. They’d been so mad at him for abandoning them but there hadn’t really been time to stew in self-pity when they had to create an entire presentation on a book they hadn’t read in a single night.

“When we finally got up there, you said ‘Fuckleberry Finn’ instead of ‘Huckleberry Finn’ because that’s what we’d been calling it all along and I think it took you a couple of seconds to realise why everybody was giggling. I felt like I was going to throw up from how hard I was trying not to laugh but as soon as you looked at me with that ‘oh, shit’ expression, I just lost it.”

The gentle sucking of the intubation tube and the steady beep of the heart monitor were the only responses he got.

“We were in so much trouble. Ms Lee yelled at us for a solid twenty minutes, threatened to call our parents and fail us for the entire course. We got an F on the assignment and had to clean the classroom every day for a week as a punishment but the moment we got out of that room, we just started laughing and we couldn’t stop.”

He blinked and a tear slipped free without his permission.

“I think that was the moment I knew I loved you,” he whispered, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “As in …  _ really  _ loved you.”

The thought of Seonghwa being able to hear this was terrifying but he was in a coma, possibly suffering irreparable brain damage. San was going to be dead in five months’ time. Hongjoong was going to a hospital for the criminally insane. 

If that wasn’t a sign that none of them were in control of their own lives then what was? Time was something they thought they had when, in reality, it could be snatched right out of their hands in the blink of an eye.

“You know … I’ve been wondering … If I’d just told you sooner, would you have realised you felt the same way? Would you have agreed to be my boyfriend? If we’d been together, you might never have met Hongjoong and then you never would have ended up under that bridge.”

He was a coward. He could have prevented this. If he’d just been honest about his feelings from the start then he could have claimed Seonghwa for himself, protected him from the hurricane that was coming his way.

And even if he hadn’t confessed, he could have put a stop to that relationship before it went too far. He should have seen Hongjoong for what he was and kept Seonghwa far, far away from him. He’d been paralysed by jealousy, unable to even look at the two of them together, and as a result he’d missed his chance to save his best friend from a fate worse than death.

Because this … this was worse than death.

“I fucked up,” he croaked, still stroking Seonghwa’s wrist with his fingertip. “I did everything wrong. I tried to keep you safe but instead I just shoved you into his arms. I let him manipulate you, I let him convince you that you had nothing left to live for.”

He couldn’t imagine how frightened Seonghwa would have been that day or what Hongjoong had said to him to make him think that the two of them only had each other.

“I waited for you, Hwa. I waited until we finished high school but then you got your diagnosis and I waited until you were in a better place mentally. But then you cut your wrist so I waited until you were out of the hospital and a little more stable but then you met Hongjoong.”

Just saying his name was painful. Hongjoong was sick, too, just like Seonghwa and therefore he couldn’t be mad at him if he wasn’t mad at his own best friend but it was so hard not to be. There was no denying that, if it wasn’t for Kim Hongjoong, none of this would have happened.

If it wasn’t for Kim Hongjoong, Seonghwa wouldn’t be lying there in that bed.

“I shouldn’t have waited anymore,” Yunho sobbed. He couldn’t tell when but he’d lost all control of his emotions. “I didn’t want to interfere. I wanted you to be happy and he made you happy but he also made you ill and I wanted to wait for you to see that for yourself but I shouldn’t have. I should have done something. I’m so sorry, Hwa. I’m so, so sorry.”

He stooped over the bed and pressed his lips to Seonghwa’s cheek, just above the tape. It was the closest he was ever going to get to kissing him.

“I want you to know that I’m going to be here, no matter what. Every doctors’ appointment, every physio session, speech therapy, whatever it is, I’m going to be right there. I don’t care if I have to drop out of college. You … You mean the world to me. I will never –  _ never  _ – leave you again.”

He rested his head against the pillow, right beside Seonghwa’s. Their noses were almost touching. He laid a hand against his best friend’s cheek and brushed his thumb over the papery skin.

“And you’ll always be my first love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, the person who requested this story wanted a tragic ending so ... *hides behind them* TAKE THEM AND NOT US!


	22. Do It Now

Yeosang had called his parents to come and collect Jongho from the hospital. He would stay for Mingi, for Hongjoong and for Seonghwa but his little brother didn’t have to be here, watching as every one of his friends succumbed to grief and anger.

Seonghwa’s parents were sitting with their son. Yunho had gone down to the cafeteria to find something to eat. San and Wooyoung were with Hongjoong. Mingi was curled up on the floor in the middle of the corridor, his back against the wall, his arms folded atop his knees and his face buried in the crook of his elbow.

And Yeosang was watching him through the pane of glass in the door at the end of the hallway.

He should be there with his arm around his boyfriend, whispering constants and comforts in his ear, but instead he was cowering out of sight and just watching it happen. He should be there but he couldn’t bring himself to move his feet.

Acting like a couple didn’t feel right anymore. Not after San and Wooyoung. Not after Hongjoong and Seonghwa. If Yeosang and Mingi started flaunting their relationship in their friends’ faces then they might as well be mocking the tragedies that had befallen them.

How could they continue to be together when everything else was falling apart?

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

He flinched and whipped around to see an expressionless Wooyoung standing just behind him with his arms folded in disapproval. His eyes were red. He’d been crying. They all had.

“Are you just going to stand here?” he asked, glancing pointedly through the window at where Mingi still sat. “You going to go in there? Or you going to run?”

“I’m not going to run,” Yeosang said at once. And it was true. He would never –  _ could  _ never – run from Mingi. “I just … I don’t know what I can say to him right now.”

_ I’m sorry that my best friend abducted and almost murdered your best friend. I’m not sure if I can talk to you because I feel so guilty that the person I love isn’t in a coma or suffering brain damage. I’m sorry that I can only think about how terrified I am of losing you when I should be more concerned with what’s going on right now.  _

None of those sounded exactly tactful.

“What if he doesn’t want you to say anything?” Wooyoung continued and Yeosang blinked in confusion. “What if he just wants you to sit with him? I’m not in his head right now but I know that when I was in his position two months ago, I needed a friend, not a motivational speaker.”

Yeosang ducked his head. He could still remember Wooyoung’s scream of anguish when the doctor told him he would be losing the most important person in his life. The only difference between then and now was that Seonghwa wasn’t dying.

He had his whole life ahead of him. It was a life of wheelchairs and feeding tubes and being unable to express how he felt or if he was in pain but it was a life nonetheless. There was still hope that one day he would be able to smile or speak again.

But Mingi didn’t need to hear any of that right now. Mingi needed a friend to sit down beside him and put their head on his shoulder and hold his hand. And as much as Yeosang prided himself on being Mingi’s partner, he also prided himself on being his best friend.

“Life’s too short, Yeosang,” Wooyoung murmured, his eyes slightly glazed as he stared over his friend’s shoulder at something that probably wasn’t really there. “God knows we’ve learnt that by now. So don’t ever take anything or anyone for granted. Don’t put things off by telling yourself that you have time to do it later. Do it now.”

Yeosang looked at him. What had happened to the obnoxious little brat who’d spent 90% of his life screaming and the other 10% smoking weed and chugging booze? How had he become so responsible and wise in such a short period of time?

Was that what watching somebody you love slowly die did to a person?

Wooyoung sighed, reached up to comb his hair out of his face and that was when the flash of gold caught Yeosang’s eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, grabbing hold of the boy’s wrist to investigate.

His eyes widened. He looked up. Wooyoung was smiling. It was sad but somehow happy, too. Like he was glad to be wearing such a beautiful piece of jewellery on his fourth finger but its presence also brought him an unimaginable amount of pain.

“You … You and San …?”

“No,” Wooyoung whispered, shaking his head slowly. “We didn’t get married. San said it was cliché and, in his words, he didn’t want to take me off the market for anybody else in the future.”

In spite of how awful it sounded, Yeosang chuckled. It was definitely something that San would say. He always had been so goddamn noble. It didn’t matter that Wooyoung would probably never fall in love again after he was gone. He still wanted to give him the chance to do so.

“It’s his ring,” Wooyoung supplied softly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the polished gold. “His father gave it to him. He was going to give it to his kid but … you know … So I’m going to give it to mine.”

Never before had the world seen two people more perfect for each other. The fact that they weren’t allowed to spend the rest of their lives together had to be one of the greatest injustices of the universe.

They couldn’t have each other but Yeosang could have Mingi.

He flung his arms around Wooyoung’s neck and squeezed as hard as he could without hurting him. The hands that curled into the back of his shirt were trembling, the shoulder that his nose was buried in began to shake and Yeosang just held on even tighter.

“San was so lucky to have found you.”

“And I was so lucky to have found him.”

Before anything else could be said and any more tears could be shed, Wooyoung took Yeosang by the shoulders, forcibly turned him around and shoved him through the door with a kick to his ass.

Maybe there was a sliver of that obnoxious little brat left inside him.

Sending a glance back to see his friend walking away on the other side of the door, Yeosang broke into a run so that he could reach Mingi in a minimal amount of time and dropped to his knees on the floor beside him.

“Baby?”

Mingi raised his head, revealing swollen eyelids and flushed cheeks that were striped with crusted salt. He looked so unbelievably miserable. Yeosang tucked a stray lock of his fringe behind his ear and leaned forwards to kiss the side of his head.

Mingi let out a strangled sob and practically collapsed against his boyfriend, burrowing deep into the folds of his oversized sweater as Yeosang wrapped his arms around him and continued to drop kisses into his hair.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

_ Don’t put things off by telling yourself that you have time to do it later. Do it now. _

He took a deep breath.

“I love you.”

He felt Mingi stiffen in his arms, sobs momentarily on hold while his grieving mind processed what he’d just heard. Yeosang had never said those words to anybody in a romantic setting. He’d always been too fearful of commitment and convinced that he would mess everything up by using it too early.

But those relationships had nothing on this one, and they never would.

“I love you, too.” 

\----------------------

Neither of Hongjoong’s parents were very small people.

His mother was a tall, slim, wispy woman who looked every bit the old money that she was. Her hair was thick, glossy and black and even at her age, her face held a youthful glow. Hongjoong would have thought the amount of drugs she did on the regular would age her quicker but that was never the case. She was still beautiful. Almost regal.

And his father …

If Hongjoong wasn’t almost the spitting image of the man, he’d have wondered if he was adopted. The man was over six feet tall, wide and large in a way that could be mistaken for fat if it wasn’t so obvious that it was all muscle.

They had the same facial features but while they coupled with Hongjoong’s small body and made him look mischievous and playful, the bulging eyes, broad mouth and pointed nose on his father’s frame gave him a demeanour that was sly, cunning and dangerous.

He seemed more like a final boss in a video game than a businessman.

Both parents sat across from him now, his mother shifting every so often in the plastic chair, fixing her scarf around herself over and over again. Wrap. Unwrap. Wrap. Unwrap. She shivered slightly and finally settled on winding it tightly over her shoulders.

Hongjoong wondered if the doctors had noticed she was high.

She was scratching at the crook of her elbow, so maybe heroin. Her eyes were covered with her shades so he couldn’t tell if her pupils were pinprick or not. 

Two police officers were posted at the door, his lawyer stood at the foot of the bed and a psychiatrist was seated on the other side of him, clipboard in hand. All of them were waiting for the answer to a question he’d already forgotten.

He realised that his mind was straying more often than not these days and he had the distinct feeling of being drugged.

They were probably pumping him full of anti-psychotics through his IV line. He never told Seonghwa but he had tried a few of his medications when he wasn’t looking and they’d all made him feel cloudy, spacey and weird. Very similar to how he felt now.

His eyes were constantly glazing over and growing unfocused but he didn’t bother trying to reset them. He just stared off ahead of him, hoping against hope that all these people would leave him alone to wallow in his own self-pity.

A furious scribbling to the left had him directing his attention to the psychiatrist. Her hair was pinned back in a painful-looking bun and her white coat had a blue stain on the breast pocket. She gave him a tight, closed-lipped smile when she caught him staring.

He blinked blankly at her before turning to lift a questioning brow at his father, “’m sorry, what?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Didn’t you hear the question?” 

He bristled with bitter irritation, “Of course, I heard the question. I’m not deaf, or is that something you’d like to add to my list? Maybe right between ‘crazy’ and ‘murderer’?”

“Watch your tone, Hongjoong.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he sighed, trying to readjust himself without pulling too much on the cuffs.

They replaced the steel with leather straps last night so that they wouldn’t wear at the skin on his wrists but now they were on both arms rather than just the one. They claimed it was just a precaution, more for Hongjoong’s own safety than for that of others.

His father had scoffed when he walked in and saw them but he was sure the doctors had already explained just what exactly he was being suspected of. They’d probably told them that their child was a crazy person.

“Give us a few minutes to speak to our son,” his father demanded as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.

Both the lawyer and the psychiatrist looked uneasy but they obeyed eventually, closing the door behind them and effectively locking Hongjoong in a room with one parent who was high as a fucking kite and another who looked like he was going to strangle him.

“You need to stop playing games,” his mother warned but her voice was shaking. “This is a serious criminal offence, Hongjoong.”

She instantly glanced across to her husband for his approval on her attempt at scolding. Even when she was sober, she wasn’t capable of thinking or acting for herself.

“We should have let him deal with it on his own after the PCP incident but you spoil him,” his father snapped. “You never punished him like he needed to be punished and now you’ve raised a criminal.”

There was that word again. Criminal. They really would do anything to give him that label. There were bars on his window, cuffs on his wrists, guards at his door. Like he really was about to pick up a scalpel and go on a murderous rampage through the hospital.

“Hongjoong, are you listening to me?” his father snarled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were done abusing your wife –”

His sarcastic words were cut off as his face snapped to the side, cheek burning from the force of the impact. A high-pitched ringing assaulted his ears, the taste of blood filled his mouth as his teeth nicked his tongue and tears sprung to his eyes.

It had been a long time since his father had hit him that hard.

A rough hand seized his chin and turned his head so roughly that he felt something in his neck pop. More tears slipped from his eyes as he was forced to meet his father’s furious gaze, unable to reach up and wipe them away due to the restraints. 

“Listen to me, you spoilt piece of shit.” The man reeked of black coffee and spittle flew from his lips as he pulled Hongjoong towards him by his face alone. “This has gone on long enough.”

“Jungwon … Please,” his mother piped up pathetically from the corner. “He’s in the hospital.”

“He put himself here. He said he wanted to die, didn’t he?” His father turned back to face him. “They don’t want to put you in prison but I’ll make sure you’re buried so deep in that facility that I’ll never have to see your face again.”

Hongjoong heard a whimper slip unwarranted from his mouth as his head was slammed back against the pillow. His father stalked across the room but Hongjoong couldn’t even rub at the ache in his jaw as he lay there, crying at the ceiling.

He’d never expected much from his parents but even this was worse than he thought they could have been.

“—guilty on all charges! I don’t care if it’s prison or the facility, just make him disappear. And so help me, if my stocks drop because this gets out, I will have all your jobs! Do you understand?”

His mother closed the door on her husband’s very loud conversation with the legal time gathered outside his private room. It didn’t exactly silence the sounds of the paternal betrayal but it did muffle them enough to make them bearable. Sort of.

“I’ll talk to him,” she murmured, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but bark out a harsh laugh.

“Like that will help. You’re just as bad as I am in his eyes.”

Her delicate face fell but she didn’t argue. She knew it was true. They were both just drugged-up junkies to that man. If he could get away with tossing them both over a bridge then he probably would have done so as soon as he found out his wife was pregnant.

“I wish you’d stand up for yourself just once,” Hongjoong whispered, still without looking away from the ceiling above him. “You always say you love me but you let him do these things.” 

His mother didn’t answer and he didn’t expect her to. As always, she chose to live her life in blissful ignorance. She shrugged her thin shoulders because even if she did find her own voice one day, his father would always find a way to be on top and they both knew it.

So to make up for it, she made empty promises and empty claims of love and got high.

“I’ll talk to him,” she repeated dumbly and then she was gone.

It was well over an hour before that door opened again but Hongjoong didn’t bother checking to see who it was. He didn’t want to talk to a lawyer, a psychiatrist or either of his parents and he certainly didn’t want to look at them. It would just remind him of his predicament.

“Hongjoong.”

His head shot up off the pillow at the sound of San’s voice and saw his best friend clinging tightly to the doorframe. He probably wasn’t allowed to step further into the room but he didn’t look like he would have been able to anyway.

“Seonghwa’s awake. I thought you should know.”

He left. 

\-------------------------

Three days after that bombshell, Hongjoong was discharged from the hospital. In that time, neither of his parents paid him a single visit and he was fairly certain his friends were busy elsewhere so, for seventy-two hours, he suffered alone. 

Left alone with his thoughts, he had no way of knowing what was happening in the room down the hall. If Seonghwa was talking, wriggling his toes, able to remember his own name or recall what had led him to be so damaged in the first place. 

Every time a nurse came in to check Hongjoong’s vitals or his psychiatrist paid him a phony visit, he asked for an update on his boyfriend – was he still his boyfriend? – and every time, he was told that they would look into it. And every time, they never got back to him. 

His only real interactions were with his lawyer and most of the time, he had virtually no interest in what that man had to say. 

He would be moved to the facility and kept there until the trial which was set for six weeks’ time. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

He was being charged with possession of illegal substances, kidnapping and attempted murder. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

He would plead insanity, a claim that would be backed up by the numerous psych evaluations. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

Depending on his sentence, he would either remain at the facility as he did his time or he would be transferred to a more secure unit where they kept the real psychos. Blah. Blah. Blah.

He didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was that he would probably never be allowed to see Seonghwa again and from his perspective, that was a million times worse than whatever the court was planning to do to him.

On the third day, however, he was released from his padded restraints and told to change into what looked like a pair of white pyjamas. His uniform for the facility. The humiliation and degradation was horrific and if he hadn’t been going absolutely crazy locked up in that room for days on end, he may even have resisted. 

“Can I see Seonghwa?” he asked as one of the orderlies from the unit snapped the handcuffs over his wrists. “Just once? I just want to see him.” 

The guy was huge, stuffed with muscle tissue in all the right places. Hongjoong wondered how many times he’d used those muscles to wrestle a madman to the floor. He certainly looked experienced when it came to dealing with the criminally insane if the hardened lack of emotion in his eyes was anything to go by. 

Even if Hongjoong wanted to give him the slip, he knew he wouldn’t get more than a few feet. 

“Please, sir,” he tried when the man seized his elbow and pulled him from the room. “I just … I just want to see he’s okay. That’s all. I don’t even have to go in. I just want to see him.” 

He got no response. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. 

The thought of Seonghwa waking up without knowing where he was or where his boyfriend had gone was eating away at his insides, but then he reminded himself that Seonghwa may not even have the ability to remember a boyfriend at all. 

What if the others had lied to him? Yunho and Mingi and the rest of them? What if they’d told him that Hongjoong had died under that bridge just so that he could move on from the toxicity that had been their relationship? Or what if they told him the truth? That the person he’d called ‘baby’ was being shipped off to a secure psychiatric facility because he’d tried to murder him? 

Hongjoong wasn’t sure which was worse: his boyfriend thinking he was dead or his boyfriend knowing he was going to prison for the long foreseeable future. 

His guard stopped walking and, by default, Hongjoong was forced to do the same, glancing up at the large man with expectantly raised eyebrows. He’d been under the impression that they would be getting straight in the van and driving to the facility. 

But then the orderly started to remove his handcuffs. 

“Be warned,” he growled without meeting his patient’s eye. “If you try anything, I do have permission to sedate you.” 

Hongjoong blinked in utter bewilderment, absently rubbing his wrists to relieve them of the sharp sting that had cinched his skin. The orderly glanced at something over his shoulder and he turned around to see Mingi standing with his back to the wall and his eyes resolutely averted. 

“Mingi?” 

He was ignored, again, as Mingi addressed the guard behind him, “Thank you for this.” 

There was a grunt of reluctant affirmation and just as Hongjoong was preparing to ask what the fuck what was going on, Mingi lunged forwards and seized his arm, dragging him towards one of the many doors along the hallway. 

“You do not want to know what I had to go through to get you this,” he growled, oblivious to the way Hongjoong was having to stumble in order to keep up. “So don’t you fucking dare mess it up.” 

They reached the door, Mingi shouldered it open and hauled Hongjoong inside. 

The tears welled up instantaneously. 

There were four chairs in total, two on either side of the bed. Yunho and Jongho were on the left while Yeosang and an empty seat – probably meant for Mingi – were on the right. Wooyoung was on the couch in the corner with San sitting sideways-on in his lap, face buried in the crook of his neck. 

Hongjoong looked at the two of them. San seemed to be unconscious, lying limp in his boyfriend’s arms, and Wooyoung was shedding silent tears as he combed his fingers through the dying boy’s thinning hair. 

It was hard to tell whether he was crying because of San’s predicament or Seonghwa’s. 

Because Seonghwa didn’t look any better. 

He was propped up against his pillows, a spaghetti strip of oxygenated plastic hooked beneath his nose. There were needles in his arms, wires protruding from beneath the hospital gown and one side of his head had been shaved to make way for the blood-crusted curve of a stapled surgery scar. 

But even with all of that, the worst part was his eyes. They weren’t … seeing anything. They were just staring blankly, lifelessly at something nobody else could identify. Yunho was holding his hand but he wasn’t holding back. If it weren’t for the steady pace of the heart monitor, he would have looked dead. 

“Joong,” Yeosang called softly, slipping his hand into Hongjoong’s and leading him over to one of the empty chairs. “His parents will be here any minute. We don’t have long.” 

Hongjoong just nodded as he collapsed into the chair with a heavy thump. He didn’t have a single clue what he was supposed to do. He’d wanted to see Seonghwa, yes, but this … this bag of bones and skin and scar tissue wasn’t Seonghwa. 

Not  _ his _ Seonghwa.

“Baby …” he started but changed his direction when Yunho shot him a dangerous glare. “Hwa … Can … Can you hear me?” 

There was nothing. Not even a blink. And Hongjoong felt like he was dying. 

He wanted to ask if it was okay to touch him but he didn’t trust his voice not to crack when he did. He curled a grip around Seonghwa’s palm and waited for the fingers to squeeze back or twitch or just do anything, but they didn’t. 

“Hwa …” he sobbed. 

Nothing. 

Yeosang’s hands laid themselves on his shoulders from behind as he sniffled and cried over his boyfriend’s – ex-boyfriend’s – lax hand. Tears splashed onto the bed covers but nobody else even moved to comfort him. 

They were all too wrapped up in their own grief. Jongho was looking down at his lap. Wooyoung had nestled his nose into San’s hair so that he wouldn’t have to watch. San was asleep. Mingi was probably guarding the door or something. Yunho was holding Seonghwa’s other hand. 

“I’m so sorry, Joong,” Yeosang whispered from above. “I really am.” 

“This can’t be it,” Hongjoong blurted, raising his head and allowing his eyes to volley between each person here in the room with him, daring one of them to contradict him. “This … This can’t be all that’s left of him, right? This … He … Tell me this isn’t it!”

But no one did. The expressions on their faces were all the same: loss. They’d been with Seonghwa three days. If there was anything beyond this lifeless lump between the sheets then they would know. And they would tell him. But there wasn’t. And they wouldn’t. 

“He’ll … He’ll get better, right?” Hongjoong croaked, his voice sounding like nails on a blackboard. “He’ll … He can’t stay like this forever, can he? He’ll start talking again and … and … He’ll get better, right?” 

Yeosang tightened his grip on his shoulders and that was enough to tell him the truth. 

“It’s called cerebral hypoxia,” Mingi murmured from over by the door. “His heart wasn’t beating and he wasn’t breathing so his brain couldn’t get enough oxygen. The cerebellum, basal ganglia and hippocampus were damaged, among others. Those are the parts of the brain that control his balance, coordination, movement and … his memory.” 

Hongjoong choked out another sob and stooped low over the bed so that he could press his forehead to the back of Seonghwa’s hand, praying that he would feel even the slightest twitch of a muscle that wasn’t dead and useless. 

His baby couldn’t walk. His baby couldn’t move. His baby might not even be able to remember him. 

“There are rehab programmes,” Mingi continued, clearly detaching himself from his own emotions as some kind of coping mechanism. “That can offer him speech therapy and help him gain back basic motor function but his right side has possibly permanent partial paralysis so he won’t ever be able to walk normally again.”

Hongjoong wished he would stop talking. He didn’t want to know anymore. He had caused this and now he wasn’t even going to be here to clean up the mess he’d made. Seonghwa needed his help to get through this and he wasn’t going to be here. 

Why did it have to be this way? He’d been the one with nothing left to live for. He’d been the one who’d known he wanted to die. He should have been the one who was hollowed out and left behind as no more than a shell and Seonghwa should have been able to live. 

“Joong,” came Yeosang’s voice, laden with emotion and dripping with grief. “You have to go now. We’ll all get in trouble if we get caught.” 

Hongjoong shook his head, still clinging to Seonghwa’s hand with all his might and weeping shamelessly into the blankets. As soon as he left this room, that would be it. He would never see Seonghwa again. 

The hands tightened on his shoulders, “Joong, you have to go or that guy’s going to come in here and drag you out.”

Let him. Hongjoong didn’t care anymore. He would fight to stay with Seonghwa. He would fight until they jammed a needle in his neck and watch him go limp in their arms. He would fight as long and as hard as he needed to so that Seonghwa would know how much he loved him. 

Because Seonghwa had to know how much he loved him. 

“Hongjoong, don’t do this in front of Hwa. Okay? Please, don’t do this. Don’t let this be his last memory of you.” 

What did it matter if his memory was impaired anyway? 

“We don’t know how much he’s aware of,” Yeosang continued, now crouching beside Hongjoong’s chair and attempting to pry his hands from Seonghwa’s. “He knew you loved him, okay? He knew that. And he loved you, too. So much. So, so much, Joong. So don’t let him see this. Okay? Don’t let him see you being dragged away.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. 

Why was the world so cruel? Why was it determined to make it so that nobody could be happy? Giving San an inoperable brain tumour? Leaving Seonghwa without a brain to even operate on? Why did those with the fewest sins get the worst punishments? 

But Yeosang was right. Seonghwa had already suffered enough. He didn’t need to watch Hongjoong fall apart as well. 

It took absolutely every ounce of willpower that Hongjoong possessed but finally – finally – he lifted his head from the bed and leaned forwards to kiss Seonghwa on the corner of his mouth. 

For a split second, he thought he felt something. A tick or a flicker or something. But it was too fast and fleeting to identify and so Hongjoong was forced to pretend that it never happened just so that he could protect himself from the possibility of what could have been. 

“You were my whole world, and I loved you,” he breathed, too quietly for anybody but Seonghwa to hear. “Drunk or sober, high, manic depressive or anything in between, I loved you.”

He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, got out of his chair, accepted Yeosang’s strangling hug and allowed himself to be guided out of the room to where the orderly was waiting with the harsh bite of the handcuffs at the ready. 

He didn’t allow himself to look back. 

It would just make it so much more painful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually only one more chapter after this. Wow ...


	23. Epilogue: Letting Go And Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I have no words

Yunho liked it here. 

The garden was always green, perfectly mown and alight with flowers of every size and colour. A smooth gravel path led a winding way from the building to the polished wooden bench at the edge of the lake so that the patients could sit there and watch the ducks bobbing about. 

When the sun set, it cast an array of fiery palettes across the surface of the water, streaks of orange and red and yellow dancing through the ripples like they were chasing each other. Sometimes Yunho would take Seonghwa down there just so he could see the reflection of colour in his eyes. 

The staff were always smiling, always kind, always understanding despite the horrible things they dealt with day after day. 

Every time Yunho walked down one of the corridors, he would hear somebody yelling abuse at one of the nurses or throwing things across the room. If they could throw things across the room. Most of the people in here had neither the strength nor the motion to do something like that. 

Yunho had learned more about neurological injuries from coming here in the last few months than he had from being friends with Mingi for the last twelve years. He’d seen patients with brain damage caused by accidents, strokes or, like Seonghwa, cardiac arrests that cut off the blood supply to the skull.

He’d never truly appreciated how lucky he was to be able to walk, talk and be until he set foot in this place. The people here … The things they’d been through … What they were reduced to … It made him insanely grateful just to be alive.

“Yunho?” 

He hadn’t realised he’d been standing stationary outside the unit like a dumbstruck lemon until he heard the weary lilt of Seonghwa’s mother’s voice. 

She had her bag slung over her shoulder, her apron already in place and the ever-present shadows hanging beneath her eyes. In order to pay for her son’s treatment, she and her husband were working six times harder than anyone had ever needed to work ever. 

Yunho wished he could help out but he was already suffering beneath the weight of student debt. At his, Mingi’s and Jongho’s request, however, the college had started up a fund for Seonghwa’s medical care. It didn’t make much but every little helped. 

“Oh … hi,” he stammered, dropping into an awkward bow of greeting. “I was just … I was just about to go in.” 

“That’s good,” the woman murmured with a smile that showed off just how much pain she was in. “He always lights up when you come. It makes so much of a difference to his day.” 

Yunho could only nod. The woman before him looked so exhausted, so broken, that he didn’t know what there was to say to her. Her only child – the boy she’d endured the pain of childbirth for, the boy she’d raised and nurtured, the boy she would have sacrificed her life for – was gone in every way that mattered. 

He was still there physically but mentally … mentally, he died underneath that bridge while Yunho cradled him in his arms and begged a god he’d never believed in not to take him away. 

They all could have done more to prevent this from happening. Each one of them could have played their parts better and made the correct decisions to ensure things never had to go this far. Somehow it didn’t feel right that Hongjoong was the only one on trial when the rest of them were just as guilty. 

“You’ve always been such a good friend to him,” Seonghwa’s mother added, fumbling with the strap of her bag and displaying her harshly chewed fingernails. “You and Mingi both … you two were there for him when I couldn’t be, when … when I wasn’t enough. I think you boys were the only reason he made it as far as he did.” 

Yunho looked at the ground and resisted the urge to wipe his eyes. If the woman standing in front of him right now knew how many warning signs there had been and how many times he’d ignored them, she wouldn’t be saying any of these things. 

She would probably be swatting him with her bag and screaming at him to get the hell away from her baby boy. That was what he felt he deserved after how neglectful he’d been. 

“Mrs Park,” he stuttered pathetically in a wild attempt to say something comforting so that he wasn’t just standing there in embarrassed silence. “I’m … I’m so sorry for …”

She held up a hand and he snapped his jaw shut at once. 

“Yunho, honey,” she said, transferring that hand onto the side of the boy’s face and rubbing her thumb gently back and forth over his cheekbone. “You never have to apologise for anything, okay? What you did for my child … I will never be able to thank you enough. You … and Mingi … you were better parents to him than me and my husband could ever be.” 

A tear dribbled free of Yunho’s eyelashes but she wiped it aside and looped her arms around his neck to reel him in for a hug. She was a lot shorter than him and so he had to bend awkwardly in order to fit his chin into her shoulder but the way she stroked his spine and lovingly shushed his sniffles was just … perfect. 

He’d never had a strong relationship with his own mother. She was sweet and caring and he loved her but she was never around, always too busy working to spend time with her son. Now that he was thinking back, he couldn’t remember a time she’d ever hugged him like this. 

When the woman pulled away, he had to fight the urge to reach out his arms and pull her back in. They said goodbye, she caressed his cheek one last time and then she was climbing into her car and driving away and Yunho was left alone in the car park. 

It took him several long minutes to gather himself and erase any traces of tears from his face. Not that Seonghwa would be able to ask him about them even if he noticed but it felt wrong to be anything other than happy whenever he visited. 

After thirty seconds of waiting outside the patient room, taking deep breaths and rubbing his eyes, he drew together every last sliver of emotional strength he had left inside of him and pushed the door open. 

“Hey, look what I brought you. It’s those weird powdery jelly sweets from China that you were always banging on about when we were kids. Mingi and Yeosang sent them over from Beijing. They sound like they’re having a good time over there. Mingi told me to tell you – and these are his words so no laughing at me, okay? – that he loves you with all the big squishy love in the entire world and as soon as he gets back, he’s going to give you so many kisses and cuddles that Yeosang will need to punish him for it. I know. I know. It makes me want to throw up, too, but the sentiment is there. Hey, when was the last time someone watered your orchid? It’s looking a little bit depressed right now. Shit, is it dead? How do I tell if it’s dead? Hey, quit looking at me like that. It’s not like I majored in botany. And what kind of word even is ‘botany’? It just sounds like some kind of unpleasant disease.”

He paused. He sighed. He stopped flapping around the papery white petals collected on the end of a long black stem and collapsed into the chair beside the bed.

“I’ve decided I’m going to finish the course without repeating the year,” he admitted sorrowfully, playing with the slender fingers that rested against the blankets. It was time to clip his nails again. “I’ll have to work ridiculously hard to catch up on everything that I missed so I might not be able to stop by quite as often for a while.”

Those slender fingers twitched a little and Yunho smiled in gratitude at Seonghwa’s attempt to reassure him of his decision.

“I knew you’d understand.”

After everything that happened, they were all given special allowances to help them through the remainder of the school year. They were forced into counselling, which was the downside, but they also got excused from certain projects and exams that were deemed ‘too stressful’ for a group of people who’d been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma in the space of a few months.

Mingi had it the worst. He felt like he had to be at Seonghwa’s side 24/7 just to make up for putting him in that bed in the first place. He barely ate, he barely slept, he started failing every single one of his classes and it was clear that he was on a steady downward spiral to rock bottom.

That had been when Yeosang stepped in. He’d taken to mothering them all as a coping mechanism but his boyfriend and his brother were the main targets. When it was obvious that Mingi was hanging on by just his fingertips, Yeosang was the one who’d pulled him aside and slapped some sense into him.

It turned out that Mingi needed time away. A lot of time away. From everything. So, the two of them packed their bags and took an early spring break that grew into an extended spring break and was now more of a sabbatical. It didn’t matter, though. They needed it.

Jongho was the only one who’d stayed in full-time enrolment. Apparently, keeping his head down and working three times as hard as any normal student was how he dealt with losing four of his closest friends at once. At the rate he was going, he would end up graduating with the highest honours.

Occasionally Wooyoung would send an update to the group chat, letting everybody know how things were progressing in Gyeongsang. 

The hospice doctors said that it wouldn’t be long now.

That left Yunho. And Seonghwa. Together. Just like he’d always wanted. Except that this was nothing like he wanted. They could have been happy and instead they were here in a residential rehabilitation centre. In other words: a home for the broken.

Yunho was vaguely aware that Hongjoong’s trial had come to an end but he’d chosen to distance himself from it as much as possible. It was too painful every time he thought about how much those two had loved each other and how he couldn’t bring himself to blame Hongjoong when he was still so messed up himself.

“You want one?” he grinned, holding up the paper bag of sweets. “Well, sorry, but they’re all mine.”

The hand in his grip gave a protesting squeeze. It wasn’t nearly forceful enough to be painful but Yunho got the gist and he was proud of Seonghwa for trying.

“I’m just kidding. Let’s get you up.”

He deposited the bag on the bedside table and edged forwards in his seat so that he was close enough to slide an arm beneath Seonghwa’s shoulders. The boy had lost a huge amount of muscle mass during the months of not being able to move on his own so he was a lot easier to lever off the cushions than he would have been before … everything.

Yunho tucked his friend’s head into his shoulder so that his neck was supported as he was lifted up but as he leaned across the body to readjust the pillows, he felt the ghost of something soft and wet against his pulse point.

“Did you just --?”

Drawing back to get a good look at Seonghwa’s face, he saw the upwards curve of the patient’s lips and felt a breath of delighted disbelief escape him at the sight.

Seonghwa had just kissed his neck and now he was smiling at him. His eyelids were heavy, his body was so much thinner, he was still yet to properly speak or do much more than make minimal movements with his hands but now he was smiling and suddenly none of the other stuff felt important.

“You’re such a sap,” Yunho teased in an attempt to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

There had been a long time in which they’d been led to believe that Seonghwa would remain in a vegetative state for the rest of his life but then, excruciatingly slowly, little by little, his functions had started to return to him.

It started with understanding. He was able to look at them when they spoke to him and blink to show that he could comprehend what they were saying. Then he could squeeze their hands, even if the action was weak and feeble. And then he started to smile.

That was Yunho’s favourite development.

It would take years of rehabilitation but the doctors were hopeful that someday – even if that day was more than a decade in the future – they would have a marginal proportion of their Seonghwa back in their arms once more.

Yunho finished fluffing up the pillows without taking his eyes off that wisp of a smile before gently propping Seonghwa’s body up against them. They looked at each other for a moment in which Yunho debated whether or not he really wanted to utter the words that demanded to fall from his lips.

“I love you.”

He’d said it a million times before and Seonghwa had said it back, but this was different. A different kind of ‘I love you’ than that which was shared between best friends when things were tough.

There was no guarantee that Seonghwa would take it as anything other than purely platonic and maybe that was why Yunho had been able to say it. Because then, if there was any sign that he was about to be rejected, he could pass the entire thing off as just an exchange between friends.

But that didn’t mean Seonghwa wouldn’t know what he was trying to say. They were so familiar with each other that they could identify a mood change in just the flicker of an eyelid. Seonghwa knew him well enough to hear the difference. He wanted to believe that Seonghwa knew him well enough to hear the difference.

He watched the boy in the bed, gently stroking the back of his hand with his thumb as he waited for a reply. Seonghwa still had that soft little smile, eyes roving over Yunho’s face as though he was trying to commit every last square inch of skin to his memory.

Then he hummed.

It was a miniscule sound. Rough and hoarse but somehow warm and friendly at the same time. It wasn’t so much of a reply as it was an acknowledgement, but Yunho should have known better than to expect anything more.

“Okay,” he exhaled, beaming down at the boy who’d become his entire world as he fished one of the candy pieces from the bag on the bedside. “Careful when you swallow. Open.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted very slowly and Yunho slid the morsel of sugar and sherbet onto his tongue, watching with immense fondness as Seonghwa closed his mouth around the delicacy and allowed his eyelids to flutter with content.

“You like that, huh?” Yunho murmured. “You want another one?”

One more hum.

Maybe one day Yunho would get to learn the meaning behind that hum. Maybe one day Seonghwa would get to tell him how he really felt. If he was tired, cold or hungry, if he regretted what he did, if he resented them for saving him… If He was still in love with Hongjoong. But not right now. Right now, neither of them were ready.

Right now, it was okay just to be together. 

\-----------------------------

Hongjoong sat back in his stool and surveyed the swirl of colours on his canvas.

The backdrop was a solid impenetrable black. He’d been meticulous in making sure that not a single dot of the canvas beneath could be seen through it. The subject of the artwork stood out in the foreground, a swirling grey feathering out at the edges until it was almost invisible. Like smoke disappearing in the air. The middle was a face painted in a deep royal blue.

It had taken a few days but he was certain that he’d finally gotten the nose right.

“Hongjoong.”

He swivelled slowly and met the disapproving eyes of his doctor. Her lips were pressed tightly together, forming a flat line straight across the lower half of her stern face. Her honey-coloured hair did nothing for her pasty complexion and, paired with the red and green suit she wore, Dr Jeon appeared just as severe as she always did.

She was a specialist. Of some sort.

After meeting with the hospital’s psychiatrist, Hongjoong was officially diagnosed, just as Jongho had said, with Borderline Personality Disorder. It took a little longer for the court to accept it though.

They called the claims far-fetched and blamed the entire ordeal on his drug addiction. The jury declared the symptoms were too “textbook” and “faked” but after months’ worth of court dates and trials, they finally agreed that Hongjoong wasn’t in his right mind when he’d committed his crimes.

The kidnapping. Section 18 assault. Battery. And distribution of illegal substances.

He was to serve his reduced five-year sentence at the psychiatric facility. The problem with that, however, was that he couldn’t exactly leave at any point during that time.

He would only be discharged once the doctors cleared him so, a year into his sentence, Hongjoong had already given up hope of walking out of those doors anytime soon. Or anytime within those five years, for that matter. 

“A word, please,” Dr Jeon ordered, spinning on her heel.

Her voice was smooth and low as it always had been but Hongjoong had learned the little tells that notified him when she wasn’t happy about something. He glanced back at his painting, knowing that the moment he got up would be the last time he ever laid eyes on it.

They’d warned him before about drawing Seonghwa. 

But when they threw him in this room, handed him a few brushes and a palette and told him to paint what he felt, what else was he supposed to produce? This right here … This was what he felt.

Seonghwa was smoke dissipating in the wind, slipping free from his lungs and gliding through his fingertips before dispersing into nothingness.

That was what he felt. That was what he always felt.

The impenetrable black. Lost, alone, abandoned by the only piece of happiness he thought he’d ever known and would ever know.

Jongho was the only one who’d tried to contact him but that was during the trial and they hadn’t been able to share more than a hug after which Hongjoong was thoroughly searched by the facility staff. He never saw Jongho again after that. Not so much as a letter. 

He didn’t know what became of his friends.

Mingi and Yeosang. Yunho and Jongho. Wooyoung and San. Seonghwa. And by the time he got out of here, he knew it would be too late for them to share any semblance of their version of normal.

The orderly was gentle but firm as he escorted him out of the rec room, down the hall and into Dr Jeon’s office.

The walls were a warm cream colour. There was an old wooden bookcase in one corner, a potted plant in the other, a slightly off-centred brown rug in the middle of the floor and a framed Rorschach ink blot hanging askew behind the desk.

“Have a seat, Hongjoong,” she said, and Hongjoong did, sinking into the too-soft couch.

His feet couldn’t reach the ground and the cushions seemed like they were devouring him whole. The sensation always made him dizzy and he wondered if that was purposeful.

“Are you fixating again?” Jeon asked, holding herself perfectly still with her hands clasped in front of her.

“No,” Hongjoong answered softly.

“Then why are you painting Seonghwa?”

“They said to paint what I feel.”

Jeon sighed heavily and leaned forwards in her chair, “Hongjoong … you know I’m only here to help you, right?”

He nodded. He’d heard the same words a thousand times before. He was actually surprised they hadn’t stamped it on his forehead and daubed it on the walls by now seeing as how much they loved to remind him of it.

“I understand, I really do, but we’ve spoken about this and you aren’t going to make it easier on yourself if you keep painting him.”

“Maybe if I could contact someone …” Hongjoong pleaded. “Just once?”

He wasn’t allowed to make phone calls. No one ever came to visit him. He asked every week when the mail came in but there was never an envelope with his name on it. He wanted so badly to believe that the facility was somehow keeping his friends away from him but, in his gut, he knew the truth.

“We’ve sent out all the letters you’ve written and we haven’t received any replies.” That truth. “I’m sorry, Hongjoong, but I think now is the time for you to seriously think about your future. We need to talk about letting go and moving on.”

He could already feel his sinuses burn and his discomfort must have shown on his face because Jeon turned to her desk and picked up a little measuring cup with his medication piled up inside.

It was there in case he needed it. He tried never to need it but he always left these sessions drugged and docile. If he resisted, they called in a couple of orderlies to hold him down while they jammed a needle into his hip so he knew it really wasn’t a choice.

“Can you continue?” Jeon asked, setting the pills down on the table between them, almost as a warning.

Hongjoong nodded without looking up.

“I promise you that I will do what I can to get some information on your friends if that’s what will help but you have to make a deal with me,” she said. “You have to try. Tonight, I want you to think about this conversation. I want you to think of a way to let go of your old friends and old life. We’ve gotten past the most difficult part.”

She smiled for the first time, as if she truly was proud of him and his puny achievements.

The first part was rehabilitation.

Even after the hospital, his body still screamed for some kind of fix but he’d fought through the shivers and the cold sweats and now he was standing at the entrance to phase two: counselling.

“We’ll meet again in two days to talk about what you come up with and I’ll share some of my own ideas if that’s okay.”

He cringed at her politeness. All the doctors here did this weird thing where they twisted statements into questions, asked for permission as if it was something the patients were allowed to give and prefaced everything with “I think”.

Hongjoong nodded anyway because he knew it was what she wanted to see and she gave him a small, sad smile.

“Do your best. I don’t want them to cut down your recreation hours and don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did to Nurse Dong yesterday when she came to give you your dosage.”

The orderly took him to the mess hall where only a few of the patients here were allowed to eat their meals while the others were confined to their rooms. 

Despite his father’s threats of burying him in the facility, Hongjoong suspected he had something to do with the special treatment his son was receiving because the other ten or so inmates with the same privileges reeked of spoilt-rich-kid.

He sat alone during dinner. He had no friends here. Or anywhere, he reminded himself. None of the other patients had even tried to speak to him but he couldn’t exactly blame them. Most days, everyone was so dazed and drugged that carrying on conversations was almost impossible and the ones who could were usually locked in their rooms to converse with themselves.

Besides that, finding new friends felt like a mockery to his old friends’ memories. He couldn’t disrespect them like that. He couldn’t just move on when they were all living in hell outside of this institution.

Seonghwa was damaged beyond repair. Yunho, Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho were picking up the pieces. Wooyoung was enduring the most profound pain known to man and San … 

Hongjoong was allowed his thirty minutes of fresh air before bed. The weather was getting warmer now and soon it would be too hot to sit outside for too long so he took the opportunity to soak up all the free oxygen he could get in the time that he had.

The back ‘garden’ was just an open yard with a few scattered benches and a hoop for basketball that everybody was always too intoxicated to play. They were fenced off from the rest of society by a fifteen-foot wall with electric wires on top.

Hongjoong had thought about scaling it his first month here. Even if he did get to the top and fried himself, he wanted to try. But he didn’t.

When the orderly returned him to his room, a nurse was waiting to give him his medication. It wasn’t Nurse Dong this time and he couldn’t help but smirk a little as he hopped onto his bed and readied his bottled water.

“Don’t give me that look, Hongjoong,” Nurse Chae warned, but she was smiling, too. “Nurse Dong has requested a move to a different floor.”

Hongjoong huffed out a stifled giggle.

“For you, not her. This isn’t funny, Hongjoong.” She stuck out the little plastic cup and he took it, sighing heavily as Chae patted his shoulder. “No more biting, okay?”

But she was still smiling as she left.

Hongjoong settled in for the night, blocking out the sounds of Dongmin screaming in his room next door and Joochan scratching at the wall between their rooms. None of this was the existence that he’d hoped to have.

By now, he thought he and Seonghwa would be on vacation somewhere, bringing in the summer together at a beach resort or maybe at a food festival in Japan with all eight of them. But this was his reality now and he had to learn to accept it.

He’d done a bad thing and now several people were paying for it. 

The drugs were starting to take hold but even through the haze, he could just about make out the door to his room slowly shutting. He frowned. He wasn’t due another round of human interaction until morning.

“Hi. Sorry. I just thought I’d come and introduce myself.”

Still bewildered, fighting the pull of the medication, Hongjoong pushed himself up on his elbows and rubbed at his eyes as the tall boy stepped further into the gloom of the room.

He was slim and fair-skinned with dark, messy hair and large round eyes. His lips curled mischievously and his dimples deepened with a smile as he reached out his hand in greeting. 

“You must be Hongjoong,” he said. Hongjoong took the offering and gave it a single pump before dropping it. “I guess we’ll be spending quite a bit of time together from now on so … you know … If you ever need something, I’ll always be here.”

“Who are you?” Hongjoong croaked, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“I’m your new roommate.” 

The boy ran his long spindly fingers through his tousled hair, splitting his face in a wide, beaming grin.

“Soobin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaannnnddd Scene...
> 
> Minyun here just doing the closing ceremony  
> Special thanks to @just a good boy for requesting this monstrosity. Thank you to all the readers who came here from our other fics and thanks to those who were just passing through. I will pray for all your souls...  
> I have to confess that the ending was toned down significantly for my sanity. My deepest darkest fear in life is to end up in a state where my mind is present but I'm trapped in my own body. 
> 
> We decided on the ending first but after writing a few chapters and actually feeling what the characters were going through the ending we agreed on gave me anxiety attacks almost every night ** self-deprecating noises**. AnonymousIntrovert took the reigns for that part and pulled through with something we were both comfortable with although I know they also suffered greatly writing this.  
> @just a good boy sry it took us this long to finish it... we had to take breaks 
> 
> We hope that everyone enjoyed this fic. Thanks again. Look out for our future projects.
> 
> -Anonymous_Introvert78 and MinYun


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